In the Shadow of Ghosts
by artemiskat
Summary: Sometimes the past haunts us more than we'd like to admit. Our actions, secrets, even our loved ones, all catch up to us sooner or later, for good or bad. This is a tale of guilt, confessions, and what comes after.  6th story, though it can stand alone
1. Chapter 1: MELISENDE

This was a bitch to write – fun, don't get me wrong, I love to write – but a bitch nonetheless. I wanted to challenge myself, so I wrote a bit differently than usual – at least in a few chapters. I hope you will enjoy this. If you are not familiar with my other stories, I'd recommend you at least read _Redemption: an Awakening Tale_. Otherwise some things might be confusing. In any case, enjoy! And I'd like to hear what you think, so don't be shy (criticism, too, but only if it is constructive, don't just write me and say it's horrible – at least tell me why you think so). ~artemiskat

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><p>I. MELISENDE<p>

_I feel like a doe wandering an endless forest. I am trapped. I munch on roots, berries, on any plant sticking out from the ground, anxiously biding my time. For I know that one day I will find a hunter's arrow lodged in my neck, piercing through my rough hide skin, and pouring forth my guts all over the forest bed, drenching the green brown floor with a pool of my tainted blood. The arrow will kill me, once and for all. The long, dark sleep of eternity will come for me. It is a sweet thought, a dreadful thought; I don't know which thought scares me the most._

_Aldous taught me how to read and write. The kind, grey-bearded old man was in love with wisdom. He could recite the history of my family from before the founding of the kingdom. He knew every Cousland, their every deeds, their every misfortunes. He took great care of the scrolls and tomes gathering dust in the castle's library. Me, I'd always been more inclined to wield a sword in each hand, not a pen. _

_But that was before._

_Mother called Aldous a sage. I never agreed with her before now. Back then, he was just my tiresome tutor, my jailer holding me back from the liberty of the castle halls. He droned on and on about things I did not really care about while I itched to play at swords, to take a swim in the stream by the castle. There was one thing that he said that, amazingly, I have not forgotten through all these trials I have faced. Aldous told me that writing could be a balm to any wound, a release of feelings better let free, lest they fester and boil the insides before erupting into a hideous, uncontrollable mess. Mother had given me a pack of bound vellum, all empty. I had been very cross, complaining to the poor old man about its uselessness. _

"_Why couldn't mother have given me something useful, like a sword?" I said with a pout, pushing away the book of empty pages. "Fergus always gets what he wants."_

"_A diary is a wonderful gift. The pages are empty, waiting for you to fill them with whatever you want. Imagine the possibilities." The old man said with a look of wonder on his face. I had ignored him then. But now…_

_An empty book, waiting to be filled is just what I need. There is no one I can talk to, nobody to confide in. I've no true friend left in the world. A million years ago there were many around me to confide in: mother, father, Gilmore, Alistair, Leliana, Wynne, Tristan, Anders, and even Zevran, among many others. Now, many of those faces are gone, nothing more than memories. People I will never see again in this lifetime. Others are far away and I'd be lucky to ever meet them again. _

_My grief is overwhelming me. The guilt is tearing at my heart. At times I find it hard to breathe. I just want to roar away everything that has happened. But I cannot do that. The past is unchanging, but the future is yet to be determined. And so I have turned to this empty book, before I do something I might regret, like turn instead to the wonderful world of ale and spirits._

_I have done that before, after the Blight ended, when I saw a man I loved dearly marry a woman I admit I despised. Alistair and Anora. It had been too much for me. I came home and acted like a fool, undeserving to bear the Cousland name. I locked myself away and drank and drank myself into oblivion. Then, Tristan, my commander, my best friend, gave me a chance for redemption. I found it, though it almost went wrong when I found a Howe in the Grey Warden ranks. Nathaniel Howe, the son of the murderer of my family. But we came to an understanding for the good of the order, and then we became friends. Not long after, we became something more._

_Now I have muddled all that. My best friend is dead and I have hurt more than one man in the processing of my grief. The hardest part is, one is oblivious to it all and the other is Maker knows where when he should be home, that stubborn elf. I have ruined everything. _

_I, Melisende Cousland, am a liar and a cheat, and the biggest fraud to walk Thedas. _

_Aldous, you fool, that was supposed to make me feel better. Yet all I want to do is drown myself in some ale and take a really long nap. I guess I need more practice, right old man?_

_Let this diary be my sword of truthiness, my escape from the mess I have created. It's not messy yet, but dire bunny, you know it will be. As my father used to say, rather fondly I like to think: where there's trouble, there's Melisende._


	2. Chapter 2: FERGUS

II. FERGUS

He led his little sister through the halls of his castle. He was glad she was home, even if it were not for much longer. The halls were too empty and too quiet. There were not nearly enough Couslands in Cousland castle anymore.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked. The layout of the castle was no longer familiar to her, he guessed. When it had been repaired, some things had changed. Fergus thought it was for the better, but he could almost feel the resentment smoldering within his sister. He had done the best he could.

"I'll not have my little sister travelling the roads unarmed," he said with the most sincerely happy smile he could forge on his face. He had been worried about Melisende. She had appeared in Highever one day, when everyone thought her dead in a shipwreck. But she hadn't been alright. She had been sick. She was better now, and Fergus could tell she was growing tired of his hovering by the sound of the sigh she let out. What did she expect? He was her older brother. He had a duty to protect her.

"You don't have to do this Fergus," she said.

"I insist," he replied, pushing open a heavy wooden door. Weapons gleamed at them from every direction. Each one of them was newly crafted with not a hint of rust or nicks. Fergus studied them all carefully before taking a pair of longswords from a rack. Twin blades made of dragonbone. He knew his little sister reveled in fighting with two swords at once. He held them out to her hilt first.

His sister hesitated, though he didn't know why. The blades were a simple design, yes, but they were of the finest quality. She was usually a good judge of these things. What in the world was she waiting for?

"Take them," Fergus commanded, the teyrn in him coming out. He shoved them forward a little more. She was being fickle and ungrateful. If she didn't take them, he'd have to… what? She was a grown woman now. It's not like he could give her a playful beating. Besides, she was a Grey Warden. She could probably kick his ass. He'd not want to put himself in that embarrassing position.

He didn't have to. Finally, Melisende reluctantly accepted the blades. "Thank you, Fergus."

Fergus regarded her calmly, a slight frown on his face. She looked away suddenly. She was not alright, he could tell. She had not been herself. She may have her health back, but there was something else bothering her. She couldn't hide from him. He'd get it out of her soon enough.

For the moment, he turned to an armour stand. "You could use some drakeskin armour, too."

"If you say so." Melisende said with a detached look on her face.

It was too much for Fergus to bear. "You haven't been yourself, sister."

"My commander is dead. Did you think I'd throw a party?" She hadn't replied with her usual fire, though the topic was obviously dear to her. She had been this way for a week now, ever since she woke up. Monotone and distant. Fergus didn't like that. He didn't like it one bit. Where was his spitfire sister? The woman who helped end the Blight, who saved Vigil's Keep from a darkspawn army? She may have replied sarcastically, but there was no fire to it, no heart it in. She might as well have been a statue.

Fergus sighed. "I know he was a good friend, but there's something else. I can see it in your eyes."

Melisende looked away, squeezing shut her blue eyes. They were darker than father's, but otherwise they usually emanated the same warmth. Now, there was just sadness there.

"I am grieving." Melisende insisted.

"Sister, look at me." Fergus gently turned her face back to him. He would not let her leave without finding out what was bothering her. "Last time you were here with Nathaniel, you couldn't keep your eyes or hands off of him. You were so in love."

She flinched. Had he touched on the truth? Was there something wrong between the two? By the Maker, if Nathaniel had done anything to her, the man would do well to stay out of his way, for Fergus would not be as nice to him as he had been in the past. He had accepted their relationship, though in truth it had hurt him to see his little sister so in love with the son of that traitor Rendon Howe. Fergus had been friends with Nathaniel once, long ago, but it wasn't so anymore. He'd been friendly to the man and even owed him his life, for Nathaniel had shielded him from a bandit attack, but that friendliness was more for Melisende's sake. He wouldn't blink an eye nor hesitate to draw his sword on the man if he had hurt his little sister.

"Losing a friend doesn't exactly put me in the mood." Melisende snapped.

Fergus backed away. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure what? Brother you are annoying me."

"Are you sure it's only that, grief?" Fergus would not give up. "Did Nathaniel do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

Melisende grew teary eyed. _The bastard_, Fergus thought, _he'll not leave this castle without answering to me first_. She turned away.

"I know what you're thinking, Fergus," she said. "You will not harm Nathaniel. He has not done anything to me. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

Fergus couldn't move from his spot as his sister left the room with no further comment. He never would understand the mind of a woman, much less one like his sister.


	3. Chapter 3: MELISENDE

III. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_Fergus is stifling me. I am glad to be away, to finally be walking the road again. I told him the truth, yet he still badgered me. Yes, I am grieving for Tristan. He was my best friend after all. But I wasn't about to tell Fergus that I had slept with Tristan's brother and then told the poor guy that he was nothing. Ronan never deserved that. It hadn't been what I meant to say. I was a fool in my cups, grieving for my friend. _

_"Last time you were here, you were so in love," Fergus had the nerve to tell me. As if I didn't already know, brother. Maybe I didn't tell him the whole truth, but it wasn't the time or the place. The whole truth is this, dire bunny: last time I was home with Nathaniel, I _was_ in love. But I didn't know that there was someone named Ronan in the world. Now, I don't know anything._

_Everyone thinks I am the one to look out for, to protect, that I am the one that will be hurt. But they don't know any better. Tristan thought Ronan would hurt me, but I hurt Ronan. Fergus thought Nathaniel had hurt me, but I hurt Nathaniel, though he still walks around unaware that I have betrayed him. It is getting harder to keep quiet. When I woke up, I promised I would never tell him. But now, I am beginning to think it is crueler not to tell him._

_If only Tristan were here. He would have given me the advice I so desperately need. But he is not here. He is dead, his body lying somewhere in the sea, lifeless. Bloated and unrecognizable probably. Maybe even torn to pieces by hungry fish. _

_Oh, dire bunny, how it shames me to think of him so. You must stop me from writing things like that in the future. I could cross it out, but it will be there still, and I will know it. So there's no use in doing that._

_I think, instead, it would please me very much to tell you of the day I met Tristan. To remember him how he should be remembered._

_It was right after I fled home. Right after father thrust me into the world, into the care of Duncan, to save my life. But there was a price to pay for my safety; I had to become a Grey Warden. I had never thought to become one of these legendary warriors, but it was not something I would ever have refused. There was nothing I ever wanted more than a life of adventure. The timing was all wrong, though. I had wanted to stay with father and mother, to protect them, to take vengeance on Arl Howe then and there. But Duncan dragged me to Ostagar._

_On our way south, Duncan took a detour to Kinloch Hold, otherwise known as the Circle Tower. I did not wish to go into that tower though. It looked so depressing and I had no wish to further darken my mood. Instead, I saw the tavern, _the Spoiled Princess_. Somehow, and to this day I still do not know how I did it, but I convinced Duncan to let me stay behind in the tavern while he went into the Circle Tower._

_I was tempted to drown my grief in that awful tasting ale. I was weak even back then, dire bunny. But at the same time, I was also stronger. I took one taste of the awful brew and thought better of my desire. If only all ale could taste that way to me, I would have no problem keeping my wits about me. Unfortunately, I think my tongue has since become immune to foul tasting ale. _

_Anyway, a few hours later, Duncan came back with a sullen looking mage with the nicest blue eyes I'd ever seen and a golden flame coloured braid. It was Tristan Amell. It was days before I actually spoke to him, for neither of us were in a mood to talk._

_I studied him from afar, trying to forget about my home being destroyed, about what I would tell Fergus if I ever saw him again. It helped a little. Tristan was tall, broad shouldered, and surprisingly built for a mage. Though, he did look ridiculous in mage robes. I applaud the day he put on armour, mostly for his sake, but also for mine. He was a lot more pleasing to look at dressed normally. I wasn't used to men in robes, still am not. All I see is Aldous when I see a man in robes._

_In any case, one day I decided to challenge Tristan, thinking I could easily take my frustration out on him. After all, he was only a mage, right dire bunny? He was big and so probably slow, and being a mage, he probably couldn't even hold a sword properly. He wouldn't possibly be able to defeat me in swordplay. But I was wrong. Terribly and utterly wrong, in fact. Tristan held his own and battered me to the ground very easily. It's no wonder Duncan had watched the whole thing with a slight smirk on his face._

_After he upstaged me, I asked him where he'd learned to do that. He told me there was a Templar who showed him some moves when he was a child, on his way to the Circle Tower. The Templar gave him a wooden sword to calm him and Tristan had practiced in secret ever since. I remember clearly what I said to him: "And the moment you face a real person, you're amazing. Not fair."_

_Tristan had laughed. We never looked back after that. We became the best of friends, confiding in one another and comforting each other. Sure, we had rough patches. There were times when I had wanted to thrash him. Like the time he arranged for Alistair and Anora to marry without telling me, or the time he forgot to tell me about a certain Howe at the Keep. Stupid as it was, he was only trying to spare me, to protect me. Tristan had, in the end, always been there for me, even if I had to chase him all over Ferelden and bring him home first. _

_Tristan would have given me reassurances, pointers, anything on how to deal with this situation I find myself in. But he cannot._

_Can you, dire bunny?_

_I've paused writing long enough for you to write an answer to me. You haven't. I thought that might happen. After all, you are only a book, a bunch of empty papers waiting to be filled by my hand. _

_I guess I will have to figure it out on my own._


	4. Chapter 4: NATHANIEL

_I meant to do this last update, but it slipped my mind - thanks for the review, **sapphiretoes** =) -artemiskat_

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><p>IV. NATHANIEL<p>

It promised to be a glorious day. The sun extended its rays over the land, shining brightly in the cloudless blue sky. The morning dew glistened in the sunlight, creating a sparkly feeling to the world. The birds were noisy and busy going about their day. It would have been the perfect day for a hunt, to creep the woods, stalking prey, and skinning it right then and there. Nathaniel smiled at the thought.

It was a day like this when he first met Melisende, too. She was a child, he a gangly twelve year old on a visit to Highever, before he got squired out to the Free Marches. She probably didn't even remember the day, but he did. It was still so vivid in his mind.

Fergus had dragged him and Thomas into the woods, for a little sport. Delilah had been left behind. There was no place for girls then. They even would have left Thomas behind, but the little bugger had whined and complained so loud, they thought they wouldn't even be able to sneak off. Well, he'd shut up with some threats of being left behind permanently in the future and they'd made their escape.

Fergus set up targets on the trees and they practiced shooting with their bows and arrows. The little bugger Thomas tried to shoot down birds, but he was never good at archery. That boy had their father's mean streak, even back then. Nathaniel wondered what his brother would be like if he were alive today. Would he have been as cruel as their father? Had Thomas had a hand in their father's betrayal of the Couslands? He shook the thought away. That wasn't what he wanted to think about at the moment.

Nathaniel glanced at Melisende walking silently beside him. She hadn't been so quiet when she came upon them in the woods. The little girl came upon them swinging a stick at the grass, shouting battle cries. "I'll rip you apart and tear you to pieces," was one that Nathaniel remembered hearing clearly. Her hair was unkempt and she was full of mud and dirt. Thomas had pointed at her and mistaken her for a peasant girl. She stopped in her tracks, surprised to see them.

Fergus laughed, his big hearted laugh he had even back then. "It's only my little sister. Melisende get back to the castle. This is no place for little girls."

Melisende had rushed at her big brother then. She struck him with the stick, crying out, "I'll show you what a little girl can do you big idiot."

Fergus had a hard time taking the stick away from her, for he was too busy blocking the blows. Little Thomas made the mistake of laughing out loud. Melisende, who could have been no older than six or seven years, turned her attention to the younger Howe and ran at him, knocking him over. Nathaniel just stood there, calmly watching the scene with a smirk on his face. Finally, Fergus grabbed her by the ear.

"She's always getting into trouble this one." Fergus had grumbled, embarrassed. "She must be half animal for I know no other girl as unruly as her. Father will hear of this."

"Of how I beat you down with a stick?" Melisende replied mockingly, clawing at Fergus's hand holding onto her ear. Fergus's cheeks turned beet red. Nathaniel had not been able to hold it in any longer. He let out a laugh. She looked at him, noticing him for the first time. She grinned widely and then stuck her tongue out at him.

"You should be at your lessons. I'm taking you back to the castle." Fergus had hauled her back to the castle then. Once they were out of sight, Thomas burst into tears, rubbing the welts Melisende had given him with the stick.

The next time he had seen her was years later, at Vigil's Keep. He hadn't recognized her at first in the dark hallway. All he had seen in the shadows was an attractive woman with long brown hair, not at all unkempt. As the torchlight reached her face, lighting up her blue eyes and her slightly pouty lips, he remembered her. Nathaniel almost wanted to leave her there in the darkness, afraid of what she would do if she recognized him. He was also afraid of what he might do to her. He had come to the Keep for some sort of revenge after all, but something changed his mind. Instead, he neglected to tell her his family name and slipped away into the darkness.

He hadn't wanted to befriend her after that. She'd killed his father after all. What kind of a person did that sort of thing? He was the sort of person, in the end. He was a Grey Warden, she was a Grey Warden – it was inevitable that they would have to come to some sort of understanding. When they did, there was no looking back. Melisende had stirred something in him, something he thought impossible: love.

His mother and father had never shown any sort of love for one another; therefore, he assumed it was something he would never find. But Melisende's bravery, loyalty, boldness, and even her stubbornness had drawn him to her. She was a spitfire of a woman, uncouth at times, yet there was a gentleness beneath it all. And she was a beauty. He, Nathaniel Howe, the broodiest of the Howe children, was in love.

Nathaniel had been many places in his life, found himself in many different situations. He never, for the life of him, thought he'd end up with a Cousland, especially after what his father had done. But here he was, walking the road to Vigil's Keep with Melisende Cousland. And here he was, a Grey Warden. His father must be turning in his grave.

He turned his attention to Melisende. Her hair was blowing into her face. With clear frustration she grabbed at it and flipped it back. She poked at her mouth and exhaled furiously to get some stray hairs out of her mouth. Nathaniel placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close. Normally, she would melt right into him, but she stiffened.

"There's something wrong, isn't there?" he asked. She'd been like this for days. Was she still sick? She was proud. Perhaps she didn't want to admit she was still feeling ill.

"No, I'm fine Nathaniel," she replied without looking at him.

She'd been very quiet lately too. Perhaps it was nothing more than grief. Nathaniel knew how close she was to Tristan. She had volunteered to go all the way to the Anderfels to defend him against the First Warden for Andraste's sake. If it was just grief, then why wouldn't she let him comfort her? There was something more, he could feel it.

"You know I am not a fan of oversimplifications." Nathaniel said.

"Well, it's complicated, and now is not the time." Melisende removed herself from his embrace and walked ahead stubbornly. "We need to get back to the Keep."

Nathaniel caught up to her. "So there is something troubling you. What is it?"

Melisende sighed loudly and long. "I wish people would stop badgering me."

"We care about you. Would you rather we ignore you?"

"At the moment, yes."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I won't."

"Then I'll ignore you."

Nathaniel closed his eyes. _Fine_, he thought, _have it your way. You can't ignore me forever_. He would get to her, sooner or later. Sometimes he forgot how young she was. Sometimes, she acted like she was still a child and not a woman grown. _After a while, she will speak up_. He knew her. She couldn't stay quiet for too long.

"Who is in charge of the Ferelden Grey Wardens now anyway?" she mused aloud after a long stretch of silence. Nathaniel gave himself an inward smile for being right.

"Varel came to me after news of the shipwreck… Tristan left me in charge."

Melisende turned to him in surprise. "You?"

"I'm not good enough, am I?" Nathaniel asked jokingly.

"You are," Melisende said. "I am just surprised that Tristan even left directions. It's like he knew he wouldn't be coming home…"

"Every good commander has a backup plan. Things can happen in a heartbeat, as I'm sure you know by now."

"Only too well." Melisende agreed with a sad look. Nathaniel wanted to gather her in his arms, but considering her earlier reaction, he thought better of it. Perhaps she just needed time to come to grips with what had happened.

If not, Nathaniel thought he might have a way to make her feel better. He'd nearly lost her twice now. He'd not wait much longer. He felt for the ring in his pocket.

_Soon, you'll have something to smile about again_.


	5. Chapter 5: MELISENDE

V. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_Vigil's Keep has never before felt so empty. I walk the halls, remembering those who have departed. Some have left this world completely; others have gone away for other parts of this world. Tristan, Anders, and Justice leave a hole among the Wardens. Even the Orlesian Wardens are missed in a sad pitiful way. For at least when they were around, there was a sense of us against them. Now there are no such feelings. Even Wade and Herren have left the Keep, moving back to Denerim. It seems as if nobody wants to be in this dreary northern village, except for Nathaniel._

_Nathaniel spent his childhood here. I can see how he loves to be here, especially now that he is in charge of the arling again. He keeps muttering, though, how he wished it would've come about in a different way. How, if he could, he'd find a way to bring Tristan back, to see the smile on my face again. Nathaniel is so good to me. If he knew what I'd done, would he be so kind?_

_It breaks my heart to think that if it had been me in command when Nathaniel was caught sneaking around the Keep all those years ago, I might have hung him for a traitor, for the simple fact that he is a Howe. I would never have known him for who he is; a good man, a strong man, and a noble man. He is nothing like his father. _

_I love him. I really do, dire bunny. I should tell him of my betrayal. But how can I hurt him? I know how it feels to have your heart broken. I would not want to do that to him. I am racking my brain for what to do. I am tearing myself apart. I don't like secrets. They always have a way of coming back and biting you. _

_I thought Nathaniel Howe was the one for me. If I betrayed him, then is it still so? My mother died for my father. She wouldn't leave his side as he lay dying from his wounds. She defended him till her last breath and he accepted her decision. Could I ever do that for Nate?_

_I'd like to think so, but every time I picture a scene such as that with me in my mother's place, it is not Nathaniel's face I see…_

_Morbid, I know. Is my mind trying to tell me something? Should I listen to my heart? The only thing is, I don't know what my heart is saying. Sometimes I wish Grey Wardens took vows of chastity. Then I'd never have to worry about this stuff._


	6. Chapter 6: LEANDRO

VI. LEANDRO

Even after all this time and all this way, he still had his sea legs. Or so he thought. He may be able to keep his balance on a rolling ship, but to keep it on land? It was proving harder than he thought. Maybe, just maybe he shouldn't have spent so much time at the _Crown and Lion_. That was most likely the reason for his swaying, for his ungainly walk. Not his defunct sea legs.

Leandro brushed a lock of his jet black hair out of his face. It was all messy and tangled from the wind. He felt the stubble at his chin. He wasn't so sure about heading to Vigil's Keep in this state. The stale aftertaste of the ale made him want to gag, but all he did was laugh.

_I'm still drunk_.

In any case, he was already at the gates to the Keep. There was no turning back now. A guard barred his way with an outstretched arm.

"Le' me through." Leandro said, with a gallant shake of his hand. Or, that was what he intended to do. He ended up just shaking his fist at the guard and falling backward.

"What a sod," Leandro heard another guard commenting behind the one blocking his way. His hands were stuck in the mud, or else he would have gotten up and decked the guard for the insult. The guard hauled him up from the ground and pushed him away.

"Get out of here. We don't need the likes of you here." The guard said before turning away.

Leandro almost listened to the guard, too used to obedience. Then he remembered, through all the fuzziness in his head, that he was here for a reason. _A damn good reason_. He sidled up to the gate once again, smoothing his hair back in an effort to look less like a drunken slob. He cursed as he noticed that he had run mud through his hair.

"Are you deaf?" the guard angrily asked him. "Go away."

"He looks foreign. Maybe he doesn't understand us," suggested the other guard.

"Are _you_ deaf as well?" the guard turned to the other one. "He just spoke Ferelden."

"_Por favor_, my friends," Leandro interrupted. "I bring an important message to the Wardens of Vigil's Keep."

The guards chuckled in disbelief. Leandro was at a loss for what to do next. He really should have sobered up before making his way here. He sniffed at the air around him. He probably should have thrown a bucket of water over himself too. He smelled like Captain Alaric's brewery.

The sweet taste of vengeance had quickly turned sour, especially since drowning his sorrow in all that ale. The man who killed his mother, he refused to say his name anymore, was dead. But so was Red, the man that had raised him. Leandro had agreed to do this thing for Red's son, but after that, he didn't know what he'd do. He certainly wasn't going to go crawling to Einar the dwarf and beg for a job with the Black Plunder. He was done with that life. He sighed loudly.

The guards stared at him as he stood there with mud in his hair and on his hands. He couldn't stand straight. He had to lean on the gate, else he might fall again.

"I've a message for Nathaniel Howe." Leandro muttered. He hoped that was the name Tristan had mentioned. It was hard to remember anything at the moment. He felt like passing out. "A message… for the Warden Commander, Nathaniel… Howe…"

The guards looked at each other questioningly.

"That news is not widely known, yet," one of the guards said.

The other guard nodded his agreement. "Maybe we should let him in."

Leandro was relieved. And then he passed out.

…

A wave of water washed over his face. For a moment Leandro thought he was lying on a beach in Rivain. But the water kept pounding on his face, like a waterfall, and he had to sit up before he choked. He coughed and sputtered and finally the water stopped. He opened his eyes. A woman stood over him with a bucket in one hand and the other hand on her hip. He was not on a beach; he was in some dank courtyard somewhere.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"You are in Vigil's Keep. I'd like to know who you are first." The woman replied. She held out her hand to him and he took it. She was stronger than she looked, he noticed, as she pulled him up. He straightened himself up, smoothed back his wet hair, and gave her an apologetic look.

"My apologies. I should not have come here in that state."

The woman grinned. "Too much ale? Maker knows I've been down that road before."

Leandro couldn't help but smile back. "I am Leandro."

"Leandro, huh? Is that Antivan?"

"Is it that obvious?" Leandro grinned.

"I knew an Antivan once," the woman remarked fondly. "He was a crow."

"Antivan Crows are notorious." Leandro looked the woman over. She was a looker, that was for sure, but with those swords at her back she was fearsome. She looked like she could slice his arms off with one swing. "I take it that the man tried to kill you?"

"And failed. He became a good friend after that."

Leandro laughed. "Well, have no fear, my lady. I am not some assassin, just a recently reformed smuggler. I am here with a message for Nathaniel Howe."

"So I've heard."

"Where is he?" Leandro made a point of searching the courtyard with his eyes.

"Lucky for you, the guards dragged you to me first. Nathaniel would not have seen you in the state you were in. He has a great dislike for mud."

Leandro chuckled. "Then, tell me, my lady, who I was lucky to be dragged to first?"

The woman crossed her arms and considered him warily. And then she smiled. "I am Melisende."

The name sounded familiar. He pinched his brain to remember where he had heard it. He couldn't remember anything. "You are a Grey Warden?"

Melisende nodded. Then it all came clear to Leandro. Melisende was thought to be dead, drowned in the dragon attack they had found Tristan in. Obviously, she wasn't. He scratched his head in thought while he stared at her.

"What?" she asked.

"He spoke of you." Leandro said. "Though he spoke of you as a ghost."

Melisende gave him a puzzled look. "Who spoke of me?"

He hesitated. Tristan had told him to give the message to Nathaniel. He didn't know if he should tell the woman first. As quick as a lightning bolt, she helped him make up his mind when she grabbed him firmly by his collar.

"Who?" she hissed in his face.

Leandro reached into his pocket, praying the thing would still be there. He felt the chain and then pulled it out, dangling it in the air where she could see it. Her eyes moved to the amulet. She let go of Leandro and snatched the amulet out of his hand.

"This is…"

"I must speak to Nathaniel Howe." Leandro interrupted. He was not supposed to tell anyone else. She gazed at him with narrowed eyes, but with a nod, led him from the courtyard to the inside of the Keep.

…

"A Warden's amulet?" the man named Nathaniel Howe said in confusion, staring at the amulet. He turned his attention to Leandro. "Where did you get this?"

"It is Tristan's." Melisende said.

Nathaniel examined the amulet further. "Well, speak up Antivan."

"That amulet is only part of the message I bring you." Leandro looked to Melisende apologetically. "It is for Nathaniel Howe's ears only."

"What are you doing with Tristan's amulet?" Melisende asked.

"Please, I must speak to him alone."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it front of her." Nathaniel looked at Melisende fondly. "She'll find out anyway, you can be sure of that."

Leandro sighed. He guessed it wouldn't matter then. She was Tristan's friend after all. "The amulet was given to me by Tristan Amell."

"Impossible. He's dead." Melisende blurted out.

Nathaniel frowned gravely at Leandro. "If this is some kind of sick joke, you'd best leave now, Antivan." Leandro did not miss the way the man's hands brushed against a barely concealed dagger at his belt.

Leandro swallowed back a retort. He knew it wouldn't be easy convincing them their commander was alive. Tristan should have written a letter or something instead of just giving him a measly amulet. But the man had wanted it to be kept a secret. He didn't want anyone to know. Writing a letter was risky, if it got into the wrong hands… well, best not think of that. Thinking of the worst usually brought about the worst, at least in his experience. Leandro shook his head.

"No. He's not dead."

The two Wardens watched him carefully. Leandro wasn't sure if they believed him, but he continued on anyway. It was best to get this over with quickly.

"Tristan told me to tell Nathaniel Howe that he is alive. He is not returning unless he is needed and if he is needed, he will know and he will return."

Nathaniel stared at him in disbelief. "This amulet is your proof?"

Leandro nodded.

"You might have just plucked it from the sea for all we know." Nathaniel said.

"On my life, it is the truth." Leandro placed a hand over his heart. What more could he say to convince them? They either believed him or they didn't. The truth would reveal itself one day.

"He's alive?" Melisende asked timidly. Leandro noticed her eyes watering.

"He is very much alive."

"Where is he?" Melisende asked hopefully.

That was something that Leandro did not know. He shook his head. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"The bastard…" Melisende said breathlessly before turning around and running from the room. Nathaniel made to run after her, but remembered Leandro.

"I don't know what to say. Stay here for as long as you wish." Nathaniel left the room.

"You're welcome!" Leandro shouted. The throne room was large and empty and his voice echoed loudly. _That was about as satisfying as delivering bad news._ He would have thought they would have been more grateful to hear the good news. Leandro shrugged then took his leave of the room, wondering what came next for him.


	7. Chapter 7: MELISENDE

VII. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_I sit here among the trees, listening to the whispers of the wind as it rushes through, rustling the leaves, caressing my face. What secrets does the wind carry? If I had listened hard enough, would I have known the truth? Would I have known that he was still living, still breathing? I suppose that is wishful thinking._

_I heard the news from a reformed smuggler. Tristan didn't even have the decency to write a letter. He thought I was dead. So what? He never wanted to be a Grey Warden. Now he has the chance to live a different life. If that is what he wants, then fine. I am not going to hunt him down again. He can take his precious freedom and stick it up his ass for all I care. He's abandoned us again. Abandoned me. I thought he was better than that._

_And what? Are we supposed to act like he is dead? To lie to everyone who asks of him, the Hero of Ferelden? I told you before, dire bunny, I don't like secrets. Too many of them to keep, it's not going to be pretty when they all come out._

_What if the other Wardens speak of Tristan? What if Sammy speaks of Tristan? Am I supposed to lie to them all? To pretend that he is dead? Am I supposed to let them continue on in grief when they could know the truth? And what of Brenna? Siofra? Do they know the truth? Oh, dire bunny, what great mess he has left me. I almost wish I hadn't been in the room when the smuggler spoke his message to Nathaniel. I wouldn't have to lie._

_When did I become a liar? My parents raised me better than this. The truth has always served me well before. Now, I hold my tongue when the truth should spill forth from my mouth. Is it really lying then, if I say nothing at all? I know what it really is; cowardice. Call me a coward, a craven, or even a chicken. This has become my truth._

_I will not be this way anymore. It does not become me. It shames my noble house. Nobody will ever say a Cousland is a coward. I will not be the first to bear that moniker, I swear it dire bunny. If the sparrow has the courage to chase the hawk, then I certainly should have the courage to say the truth. Nathaniel Howe will know the truth, Maker help us all._

_But how do I tell him? What honeyed words would I use? Or would plain words be better suited for a man such as Nathaniel?_

_The plain truth would be best, at least in Nathaniel's case. If anybody asks me of Tristan, I don't know what I will say. That is not my secret. It eats at my heart as much as if it was my own secret though, and I don't know how long I can keep it._


	8. Chapter 8: NATHANIEL

VIII. NATHANIEL

He found her on the battlements. The stars shined on her face, giving her an ethereal look. It almost felt like the stars were among them. It was only the fireflies, though, who flitted about, casting their strange green glow among the dark. Standing there, gazing at the distant landscape, in such an enchanting setting, Melisende had never looked more beautiful to him. Nathaniel could hardly find the words to say to her.

She took the dilemma away from him, with furrowed brow. "I can't believe he just left. That he wants everyone to think he is dead."

Nathaniel was surprised, too. He didn't think Tristan would run again, but he didn't know the man very well in the end. He supposed the man deserved to lay low for a while. He was a hero after all. He'd done much and more for Ferelden. He promised he would return if he was needed and that was enough for Nathaniel. He guessed, though, that wasn't the case for Melisende.

"But he's alive. That counts for something, doesn't it?" he asked her.

After a long moment of silence in which Nathaniel guessed Melisende was sorting through her thoughts, she finally turned to him and answered. "I guess it does."

"You're feeling better now?" Nathaniel ventured. Maybe now she wouldn't be so distant, now that there was no longer anything for her to grieve for.

Melisende gave a pathetic shrug with her left arm. "I suppose," she said as she returned her gaze to the distant mountains.

Nathaniel felt the sudden urge to enfold her in his arms, to make her see that everything was better. She didn't have to feel so gloomy anymore. He did what his body urged him to do. "What do you mean, _I suppose_?"

Melisende closed her eyes as Nathaniel squeezed her tighter. This close, he could feel the beating of her heart. It was racing, giving him every indication that she felt his warmth, that she felt his own heart racing. But she did not hold him back. She did not mould herself into him like so many times before. She stood as stiff as a tree trunk. He wondered what was wrong. Then he remembered what she had said on the road to the Keep.

"There was something you wanted to talk about," Nathaniel said in a whisper.

Melisende remained quiet. When Nathaniel thought he could no longer stand her silence, when he was about to let her go, she looked up at him with the strangest expression he had ever seen her wield. Was it sorrow? Regret? He could not tell.

"Kiss me," she said.

That was not what he was expecting. Was she trying to change the subject? He would gladly kiss her, anytime, anywhere, but something was off. He stared at her, wide eyed, trying to figure her out. The glow from the night sky made her enchanting to behold. He wanted to kiss her then. He leaned in closer to her, closing his eyes as he neared her face. Their lips locked – and it felt weird. It was not what he was used to. It lacked the passion he had come to expect from her. There was something desperate about it, as if Melisende had forgotten to turn off her mind.

Before he knew what was happening, Melisende was pushing him away, asking him to stop. Nathaniel let her go completely. He was totally confused now.

"What?" he asked.

"I cannot do this anymore."

"Do what? Melisende, what is wrong?"

"I haven't been honest with you," she said. Nathaniel was surprised to see her eyes tear up. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Nathaniel felt worry build in the pit of his stomach. It was an uneasy feeling. He realized it had been there all along, ever since finding out Melisende was alive. He braced himself, for what he did not know. For now, he tried to hide his worry. "How could you ever hurt me? I don't understand."

"I already have…" Melisende turned away, as if she was ashamed to continue. Nathaniel reached for her, turning her back towards him. If she had something horrible to tell him, he'd rather see her face.

"Whatever you have to say, just say it. I'm a man, I can take it. I promise."

Melisende took a deep breath. "It's about the shipwreck. I was never alone. There was another survivor," she paused momentarily to look away and then her eyes met Nathaniel's head on. "I betrayed you with him."

Nathaniel stared at her hard. He couldn't understand what she was saying to him. Or maybe he didn't want to. It took a moment for what she said to really register with him. _Betrayal? What kind of betrayal?_ He wouldn't let his thoughts go any further. He wouldn't believe it.

"Did this man take advantage of you?" Nathaniel asked. It was all he could think of to ask. Melisende couldn't possibly have meant anything else. "Did he hurt you?"

Melisende shook her head. "Nathaniel, I asked him to kiss me. We made love."

Nathaniel stepped backward, clenching his fists. He felt a stab of pain through his heart. He didn't think that feeling ever possible again. He thought his father's betrayal would be the first and last time something ever reached to that place. He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you do this?"

Melisende bit her lower lip. "I don't know."

That was not the answer he wanted to hear. It was not good enough. He hoped she would have said that she was out of her mind with grief. That she didn't really want to do it. Instead, she gave him no answer at all. It hurt even more.

"Who was he?" he asked gruffly. He didn't want to lose his calm, but it was becoming hard to maintain. He could barely stand to look at her at that moment. To think, he was going to give her a ring, to ask her to be his wife. He should have known better…

"Does it matter Nate?"

"My name is Nathaniel," he said. She had lost the right to call him Nate. She was not going to avoid answering him. "Tell me who he is."

"It doesn't matter." Melisende said, standing her ground. "He is gone."

What did she mean? _Could it be…?_

"Tristan? Was it him?"

"No!" Melisende said forcefully. She looked taken aback. "You know I thought he was dead all along."

Nathaniel frowned. She did have a point. But he wasn't going to give up so easily. He wanted to know who had ruined his life. "Then who?"

"Will it really make a difference if I told you who?" Melisende asked rhetorically. She really was stubborn. He should have known better than to prod her. "I am so sorry, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel clutched at the railing of the battlements. Her apology meant nothing to him at the moment. He tried to gather his thoughts, but they were racing back and forth. How could she do this? They had been through too much for her to throw it all away on a stranger. And she didn't even blame it on her grief. Did she even regret it? Did she love the other man? It didn't seem like it. She did look honestly sorry. But maybe that was a lie too. He almost wanted to forgive her. That was stupid, though. She hurt him. She betrayed him. He was a man, he could take the pain, could hide it away from the world, but the betrayal he could not forget. If he couldn't trust her, then what did they have left?

"I'd beat the man to a bloody pulp if I knew who he was. That still would not change the fact that you betrayed me." Nathaniel said. He pushed himself away from the edge and turned to Melisende with a look of loathing. "I should have known better than to trust a _Cousland_."

Nathaniel noticed the hurt that statement brought to Melisende, but he didn't care. He turned away and stalked off into the night. He gripped the ring in his pocket, trying to crush it into pieces, the way she had just crushed all his hopes and dreams.


	9. Chapter 9: MELISENDE

IX. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_I finally confessed to Nathaniel. He said he should have known better than to trust a Cousland._

_I never expected that. I prepared myself for many things; a shouting match, a quiet but angry monologue, perhaps even a few tears of hurt streaming down his face. But that is not what happened. Oh, there was plenty of hurting in him, I could see by the way he clenched his fists, perhaps imagining in his head beating up the man who stole my heart, though I refused to name him. _

_Throwing my family's name into this I never expected. It hurt so much. It cut through my heart like a blade. Why? Because it felt as if he had not forgiven me for what I did to his father after all, like he felt as if my vengeance had not been justified. _

_Well, now I am angry._

_I never should have trusted a Howe. _

_Father had put me in charge of the castle and I failed before he even left. Rendon Howe, who I had earlier wished well, betrayed us all. I thought I was over this, but I don't think I will ever be. Mother Mallol, murdered in the chapel. Gilmore, my Gilly, so excited to be tested for the Grey Wardens, defended the doors to his last breath. Aldous, my grey bearded tutor, died amongst his treasured books in the library. Lady Landra proved to be on an untimely visit to my mother for both her and her son. Dairren was even going to write about the battle as father's squire. But he never got to do that. They were both cut down in their rooms. Even their servant, Iona, who had a daughter, Amathine waiting for her at home, was murdered. Nan, my sweet, cantankerous old nurse torn apart in the kitchen. And who can forget all the other servants and guards. A _Howe_ killed them all. And Nathaniel says he never should have trusted a Cousland?_

_Did a Cousland do this to Vigil's Keep? _

_Did my father, his pale blue eyes always warm to behold, deserve to be backstabbed by a lifelong friend, all in the quest for power? Did my mother, with her gentle green eyes and loving demeanor deserve to be killed while she shielded her wounded husband, a battle maiden till the end? Did my brother deserve to be deprived of a life with his wife Oriana and his little son Oren? The greed of a Howe did all this. _

_What did the Couslands ever do to deserve this?_

_No, Nathaniel, you are wrong. I never should have trusted a Howe. Your father. Your despicable, viper of a father. He did all this. And where were you? Never mind. This is a waste of space. I wrote before the past cannot be changed, except perhaps if I were to re-write history. But I will not do that. _

_So I betrayed you. You didn't have to throw our families' histories into this._

_Perhaps we were never meant to be more than friends. What happened between our families was too much for us to bear. I mean, how insane is it that we ended up together in the first place? Maybe it wasn't insane. The more I think about it, the more I think it _was_ love that brought us together (obviously), and I still love Nathaniel, but I think I love someone more._

_I've never been so confused in my life._


	10. Chapter 10: SAMMY

X. SAMMY

A refreshing breeze blew through the open window of the kitchen. It felt so good to feel it rushing around him, cooling his skin, and creating goose bumps all along his arms, that he dropped the dough onto the floor. Cook groaned, loud and irritated.

"Another one? Pay attention Sammy. I swear, you are the worst assistant ever," Cook said.

Sammy bent down to pick up the dough and couldn't suppress a chuckle. It was not the first time Cook had called him the worst assistant ever. Cook called everyone that, even old Bertha who made the best stew in the arling everyone said. It was hard to pay attention to his work when he could feel the air changing, the wind picking up, and the sky darkening. There was a storm coming and all Sammy wanted to do was go outside and greet it.

Instead, he made a show of brushing off the dough while crouching. It was completely ruined. Nobody would want a piece of bread full of floor things.

"Just leave it be," Cook said as he came around and grabbed Sammy by the ponytail. Cook gently pulled Sammy up. "Take your butter fingers and go organize the larder."

"Aah," Sammy whined. "Can't I just go now?"

"When I see the larder neat and orderly, you can go." Cook said firmly.

Sammy sighed loudly and then went over to the larder as Cook had told him. There were no windows in the small storage room so he had to light a torch to see. When the torch was lit, Sammy grumbled to himself. _This is going to take forever_.

There were sacks littered around the floor, half open crates piled in wherever there was space and the shelves had jars strewn everywhere, not all of them were standing upright. A loud rumble of thunder shook the floor, rattling the jars and causing the torch to flicker.

"I'd rather be outside," he said as he kicked a sack out of the way. Storms were his favorite part of summer. When he was really little, he used to count with his father how long it took for a thunder to come after a lightning. Now, he just liked to see the storm clouds roll across the sky, to feel the wind through his hair, and to stand in the drenching rain. Maybe it was stupid, to tempt fate like that, but he hadn't gotten hit by a bolt yet.

Sammy resolved to get the larder straightened out as soon as he could. Thinking of the storm brewing outside, his legs moved faster, his arms lifted faster, and his organizational skills emerged from somewhere deep inside himself, when usually they hid, and he got everything as neat as possible. He piled all the sacks in a neat pile, rearranged and closed the crates, after first making sure there were no rats that had taken up residence in them. As he was shifting the jars into neat and orderly rows, Oghren came waddling into the room. At first, Sammy assumed the dwarf hadn't noticed him, but as Oghren set his eyes on something on a higher shelf, he called to him.

"Boy, get that flagon for me." Oghren said without looking at Sammy.

Sammy couldn't help the smug feeling that crept up into him. He was finally taller than all the dwarves in the Keep. Oghren, though, still called him _boy_, which always got on his nerves.

"I'm not a boy anymore." Sammy said. "And I have a name."

Oghren turned to him, scratching his long, red, braided beard. "So, _Longshot_, now that you're taller than me, you're a man? And what, you're ten? That hardly makes you a man."

Sammy narrowed his green eyes in annoyance. "I'm thirteen." Well, he was still only twelve, but he'd soon be thirteen anyway, so what did it matter if he lied to Oghren?

"When I was thirteen, I'd already killed some sodding darkspawn and won a Proving." Oghren said with a teasing smirk.

"You're just saying that." Sammy said. He didn't believe for one second that Oghren was telling the truth. "Besides, I'd have done all that already if everyone would just let me."

Oghren laughed, which caused Sammy to frown in indignation. The dwarf shouldn't laugh at him. Sammy would be a great warrior one day. He'd even go to Orzammar and show everyone who doubted him by winning a Proving, just like Tristan had. Oghren wouldn't be laughing then.

"Boy, are you going to help this poor short man, or what?" Oghren asked after his laughing had finally ceased.

"If you put it that way…" Sammy was about to agree, but a clever idea came to him as the torchlight glinted off of Oghren's two-handed axe at his back. "Can I hold your axe first?"

Oghren looked puzzled, even a little nervous and then he relaxed as he seemed to realize what Sammy was asking. "I doubt you could lift it."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Sammy held out his hands and waited. Oghren hesitated, looking at Sammy and then at the flagon several times before relenting. He took the axe from his back and placed the handle in Sammy's hands. He didn't let go right away.

"Don't swing it." Oghren warned.

Sammy nodded, impatient for Oghren to let go. When Oghren did, Sammy almost let the axe drop onto his feet. It _was_ heavy, he had to admit. Not because Oghren warned him not to do it, but because he doubted he could, he didn't try to swing the axe. He didn't want to admit defeat though, so he walked around the room with the axe in his hands, his muscles straining in his arms and breaking into a sweat. _How does Oghren carry this axe on his back all the time?_

Finally, Sammy could hold it no longer. "Take it back," he said, holding the weapon out to the dwarf.

Oghren watched him, grinning, letting Sammy hold the axe longer, though Sammy really didn't want to hold it anymore. The dwarf was teaching him some kind of lesson in humility no doubt, but Sammy could care less at the moment. The axe would fall out of his hands soon if Oghren didn't take it back.

"Please, Oghren, take it back, before I drop it on my feet and they get chopped off and then Melisende will get mad at _you_ and probably take revenge on _you_…" Sammy said with a barely concealed grin.

"Fine, fine, give it here." Oghren took the axe back. "The flagon, now."

Another thunder pounded overhead. Sammy noticed Oghren flinch. "Scared of thunder?" he teased.

Oghren muttered a denial and he motioned toward the flagon. Sammy reached up with his right arm, grinning with satisfaction at Oghren as he clutched the flagon and brought it down to the dwarf's level. He handed it over to Oghren, proud of himself for being so tall now.

"Thank you boy." Oghren said, slapping Sammy on the back in thanks and sending the boy lurching forward. The dwarf may be short, but he was strong, Sammy would at least give him that.

Oghren took his leave of the larder and Sammy took a good look around the room. It was neat and orderly enough. Cook would have to let him free now.

…

Free from his duties at last, Sammy raced through the halls of the Keep. He dodged around servants, guards, and petitioners, causing a racket. The people he nearly knocked over in his haste to get outside and greet the storm cursed loudly and mumbled angrily. Sammy laughed, until he saw that he wasn't the only cause of the grumbles. Loki was bouncing along the halls as well, his eyes focused on the orange fur ball that was Ser-Pounce-a-Lot.

"Pounce!" Sammy exclaimed, skidding to a halt. The cat darted under a man's legs, causing the man to flail and catch his balance on the wall. Loki's lithe form grazed the same man, causing him to fall.

"Damned animals!" the man yelled with a shake of his fist. "This is a Keep, not a Tevinter menagerie."

Sammy charged ahead once again. He was going to rescue Pounce. The cat was his friend and couldn't defend himself against a mabari. Loki was always chasing Pounce, but Sammy vowed this would be the last time. Somehow, he would make Loki understand that chasing the cat was wrong.

Sammy followed the orange blur, just as Loki did. The cat ran down the halls, sending more people flailing to the side, hunching against the walls to avoid being run over by the mabari hound. Loki barked as Pounce dashed down the steps into the courtyard. Sammy followed, close on their heels, or should he say, their paws.

The sound of wooden swords banging against each other rang through Sammy's ears, _a sweet melody_, he thought. He came to a halt as he spied Melisende in practice with Madoc. Pounce didn't care about disturbing the match and he ran right through first Madoc's legs and then Melisende's. Loki copied the cat's moves, only he was too big to fit through Madoc's legs, and too busy countering a sword swing, Madoc never knew what hit him. The mabari rammed into his legs, sending Madoc falling backwards into the dirt. Melisende flailed slightly, but caught her balance as Loki stood upright to greet her on two paws, all thoughts of Pounce were removed from the hound's mind as he spied his master.

"Loki!" Melisende chastised the dog. She set him back on four legs, but held firmly onto his collar.

"He was after Pounce." Sammy said, entering the practice circle.

"Bad dog!" Melisende said. Still holding onto Loki's collar, she flung an apologetic look to Madoc, who stood up quickly and brushed the dirt from his pants. "I'm so sorry Madoc. Are you alright?"

Madoc's cheeks flushed red, but he nodded his head just the same. "I'm fine."

Sammy looked around for Pounce and spotted the cat perched on a nearby tree limb, calmly licking his paws. Sammy imagined Ser-Pounce-a-Lot was feeling smug about once again escaping the mabari hound. Sammy laughed.

Melisende shot him a warning look, and he ceased laughing, and then she quickly turned her attention to Madoc. "I realize you might want to flog the creature right now, but would you mind taking him back to the kennel?"

Madoc chuckled. "I could never hurt a dog, even if he made me look like an imbecile." Madoc accepted the charge of Loki and lead the hound away. Loki gave no resistance, only panted loudly and hung out his tongue in exhaustion. Melisende shook her head at the dog and when Madoc was no longer in view she turned to Sammy in reprimand.

"What?" Sammy shrugged and then burst into laughter again. "It was funny, seeing Madoc with his arms all like this and falling into the dirt." Sammy re-enacted the whole episode. Melisende shook her head, but gave a smile to the boy anyway.

"You shouldn't make fun of people."

"But it was funny and he didn't get hurt." Sammy laughed again. He heard the ebullient laughter of a man behind him. Sammy turned to see who was laughing with him. It was the drunken Antivan who had showed up at the Keep a few days ago.

"It certainly was funny, but boy," Leandro said, "your expert impression of the fall was even more comical."

Sammy grinned at the visitor.

"You're still here?" Melisende asked with a hint of annoyance. Sammy didn't understand her tone, or her sudden change in mood. Leandro was nice enough, though Sammy hadn't gotten the chance to chat up the man. He'd heard some of the servants say he was a reformed smuggler. That was such an interesting fact that Sammy had so many questions for the man.

"I was just on my way out," Leandro said, recoiling slightly as a thunder cracked overhead. "I thought I'd wait for the storm to pass through first. Nothing compares to a storm at sea, of course, but I'd rather not be struck by lightning today."

"Did you ever see someone struck by lightning?" Sammy asked.

"Only lightning sent by a mage." Leandro said with a grin. Sammy glanced at Melisende. She looked disinterested in the current conversation.

"I've seen Tristan do that once. Well, not on a person, but on a tree stump. And Anders, too. Velanna can do it, I'm sure, but she never wants to do it just for fun." Sammy said. He couldn't help but feel sad. It was bad enough that Anders had run off, and then the Maker seemed to want to take more away from Sammy when he took the Commander away in a shipwreck.

Melisende had been saved, Sammy couldn't figure out if it was by the Maker's hand or perhaps by her own hand, but she had found her way home. Sammy had been so glad to see her. He couldn't have stood losing her, too. Besides the Commander, he'd already lost his parents. He thought everything would be okay again. But something had happened between Melisende and Nathaniel. They were not speaking to each other and neither of them would deign to explain to Sammy what was the matter. Sammy could feel the tension in the air. He imagined he could cut it with a kitchen knife, it was so thick. He wished things would return to normal. But he knew now, that nothing ever did.

A flash of lightning brightened the darkened sky for a swift second. Sammy held his arms spread out to the side and tilted his head to the sky with his eyes closed. "One, two, three, four…" he counted out loud. The wind blew at him, threatening to lift him off the ground. He almost wished it would, to see what it was like to fly, to see the world from above, like a bird. "… five, six…"

The thunder clapped above and brought with it a torrent of rain. The raindrops fell quickly. They were cool and felt fine on his face, dripping from his forehead into his mouth.

"Sammy!" Melisende's bark broke into his reverie. He opened his eyes to find Leandro smiling as the rain drenched him and Melisende worriedly glancing at the sky. She took Sammy's hand, much to his regret, and pulled him under a sheltered part of the courtyard. Leandro followed.

"I wanted to stay in the rain." Sammy said.

"It's too dangerous." Melisende said. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms. Sammy sighed. Sometimes, she acted like she was his mother. He didn't really mind, as it reminded him that somebody cared about him, but sometimes it got on his nerves. Like now.

"Ah," Sammy said, "you're no fun anymore."

Melisende seemed hurt by his words and he immediately regretted saying them.

"I'm sorry." Sammy quickly said in the hopes of undoing the hurt he had caused her.

"Don't worry about it." Melisende replied with a weak smile. He did worry about it though. He worried about her. She looked so sad these days and she avoided Nathaniel. What if she left? What if she turned out to be like all the other adults he'd known? What if she left him? He didn't think he could handle that. He decided she must be sad because of Tristan so he pushed his fear away.

"I miss him too. Tristan, I mean." Sammy said quietly. He caught a look that passed between Leandro and Melisende as he said his words. He didn't understand it, so he pretended not to notice and he continued, "I'm glad you're home. You're the only one who cares about an orphan like me."

"Oh Sammy, that's not true." Melisende said, squeezing his hand in reassurance. He was too old for hand squeezes and the gesture did nothing to ease his fear. He gently wrenched his hand free. Melisende continued anyway. "There are plenty of people who care about you."

"You know," Leandro said, "I was an orphan child too. A fine man raised me, took care of me when nobody else would, and taught me how to be a good person. You might think you're alone, but you never are. Blood doesn't always make family."

Melisende looked at Leandro questioningly. "A fine man taught you how to be a good person? Yet, you ended up a smuggler."

"We're not all scum." Leandro retorted. To Sammy, the man looked slightly offended. "If it weren't for that man, I would not be here today. And neither would _your friend_."

Melisende looked even more confused now. Sammy was beyond understanding what they were talking about. _Stupid adults think they can hide everything from me_. He did get that Leandro was trying to make him see that orphans could have family, that blood wasn't always a requirement. But he'd had enough of their talk.

"I'm bored." Sammy stated. He burst out from under the shelter into the rain, leaving behind the adults and their puzzled looks and cryptic words. They couldn't catch him, and he chuckled as he ran through the rain.


	11. Chapter 11: MELISENDE

XI. MELISENDE

_Did you know, dear diary, that I named you dire bunny in honor of my nephew, Oren? He was a good kid. He always made me laugh, with the things he would say, like dire bunny. I never knew bunnies could be dire. He would be around Sammy's age by now._

_Sammy reminds me a lot of Oren. He is eager, almost too eager, to become a man. Much like Oren was. Sammy wants so much to become a great warrior. I remember Oren was just the same. He always badgered me to show him my swords, to show him how to parry, how to strike. The more I think about it, however, all little boys are like that. Even some little girls, like I once was, long ago..._

_Oren was always happy. He had no reason not to be. He lived in a castle, his grandfather was teyrn, his father would be teyrn, and he would be teyrn one day too. He had everything he could have ever wanted. A tutor to teach him history (the same Aldous that taught me and Fergus), a knight (Ser Gilmore was his second favorite but super aunt – _moi _– was his favorite) to teach him the art of war, servants at his beck and call, and his grandparents wrapped around his little fingers._

_Sammy, on the other hand, never had any of that. He's had a hard life. He was orphaned by the time he was ten years old. He doesn't speak much of his life before, but I know Sammy is in a better place now. _

_That seems to have changed lately. He knows something is wrong. I can hardly blame him for asking. Nathaniel and I hardly speak to each other and I know Nathaniel is avoiding me as much as he can. Sammy is grumpy and it is all my fault._

_I wanted so much to join him in the rain the other day. To feel the raindrops cool on my skin. But I've been stuck in mother mode with him, ever since Nathaniel and I rescued him. He needs a good example in his life and I wonder if that can still be me._

_When I was a girl, I hated that I would one day have to marry an old man of my parents choosing, for the good of my family. But the one thing I always looked forward to was having children. That, I would not have minded. Sometimes, I think of the child I will never have. I start to think of how she would look, for it is always a girl, and how she would act, if she would have my nature, or Nathaniel's. And then I snap back to reality. That could never happen. _

_And now it never will._

_Sammy has become dear to me. He doesn't have my blood, but the smuggler said it right when he said blood doesn't always make family. _

_I only hope I can live up to the boy's expectations. He still has a child's wonderment when he looks at me. He sees only the Grey Warden, the heroic deeds that I've accomplished. What will happen when the veil is lifted on that and he sees the real me? _

_I am flawed. _

_I am human. _

_I hope that he will understand that, for I could not bear to lose him._


	12. Chapter 12: SAMMY

XII. SAMMY

His green eyes squinted at the target, a straw man with a rusty old helmet on his head. He took aim, his arm muscles straining, waiting to release the arrow. He zeroed in on the place between the straw man's eyes – two mismatched buttons. The straw man looked so ridiculous, that Sammy almost couldn't concentrate. Not only did the straw man have buttons for eyes, but he wore a rotten carrot for a nose and a string for a mouth, curled up in a smile no human could ever physically give. It was enough to make Sammy burst into laughter, but he held back. Nathaniel was standing behind him, watching everything, after all.

Sammy let the arrow free and in an instant so quick it hit the target he had been aiming for, through the straw to the wood that barely held the man together.

"That was good." Nathaniel said. Sammy turned to face him, a big grin covering his mouth. He expected for Nathaniel to wear a smile too, but he wasn't smiling.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sammy asked in confusion.

"No," Nathaniel shook his head, "but can you hit the same spot twice?"

Sammy frowned at the insinuation in Nathaniel's voice. "It wasn't a lucky shot. I'll prove it to you right now."

As he turned around to face the straw man again, Sammy glimpsed the smirk that overcame Nathaniel's face. Sammy pulled out another arrow and nocked it angrily to the bow. _Calm yourself_, he thought, _Nate is probably trying to teach me some sort of lesson, in his stupid way of few words_. He took a deep breath and then aimed again, letting loose quickly. The arrow struck the first one and split it into two, sending wooden splinters and pieces of straw flying everywhere. Sammy swirled around in triumph and locked his smug look onto Nathaniel.

"I told you it wasn't lucky."

"I never said it was." Nathaniel said with a grin.

"But," Sammy shook his head in frustration, "the way you challenged me…"

Nathaniel laughed. "Your skills are improving. They will come in handy one day, but for now they are still raw and you need more practice." Nathaniel wiped his brow of sweat as he spoke. It was a scorching hot day, almost too hot to do anything, but Sammy had gotten Nathaniel outside after a little cajoling. Okay, maybe it was _a lot_ of cajoling, but Nathaniel was always busy these days. He hardly had any time for Sammy anymore.

"You just said I was good." Sammy said. He formed his mouth into a slight pout to show his annoyance with Nathaniel. "You saw what I did."

"And you are still too young to go adventuring." Nathaniel said. He leaned back on the wooden fence to their side and motioned for Sammy to hand the bow back to him. It was Nate's bow after all. Sammy reluctantly did as Nathaniel wished.

Melisende appeared at that moment. She tugged at her tunic, probably trying to create some sort of refreshing breeze. When that failed, she gathered her hair up into one big pile and tied it into a messy bun with a leather strap she took from around her wrist. She rubbed at the back of her neck, as if to wipe it of sweat. Sammy was not used to seeing her this way – with only a tunic and sandals. The hot weather had made her forego her usual leggings, high leather boots, and leather gloves.

Sammy stole a glance at Nathaniel. Nathaniel watched Melisende closely as she made her way toward them. To strangers, it might seem that Nate was expressionless, but Sammy knew there was pain behind those grey-blue eyes.

Melisende, as well as Oghren and Madoc, had only just returned from darkspawn business. Sammy had almost panicked when he realized she was gone. She hadn't said _goodbye_. He thought she had left for good. She hadn't, though. She was home again, for now.

"It's too hot." Melisende remarked as she reached Sammy and Nathaniel. Nathaniel seemed to stiffen at her approach. Things were still strange between the two and every time Sammy asked about that strangeness, they shrugged and said it was _too complicated_ for him to understand. There was nothing complicated about it to Sammy – they had broken up, it was plain for everyone to see. Even Cook had noticed, though he said he hated gossip. Sammy was neither blind nor stupid to these things. The adults gave him little credit. He only wanted to know why they broke up.

"Sammy," Nathaniel said, avoiding meeting Melisende's gaze. "I have to go now. We'll practice more when it cools off. I promise."

_If you have time_, Sammy thought and would have said, but he didn't want to raise the tension level higher than it already felt at the moment. Instead, he nodded as Nathaniel stood up straight and wandered away from them back to the Keep.

"He didn't have to go." Sammy said.

"I'm sorry Sammy." Melisende said, knowing that she was the cause of Nathaniel's hasty departure. She reached for Sammy's hand but he brushed her off. Unaffected by the angry response, Melisende continued. "Everything will be back to normal soon. I promise."

"No it won't." Sammy angrily replied. He was tired of adults telling him that, making him promises they couldn't keep. "My mother said the exact same thing, promised the exact same thing when the Blight came and took my father away to war. But nothing ever was the same. Nothing returned to normal. My father had promised me he would return. My mother promised me he would return. But he never did. He never came back. He's probably dead. My mother promised me Denerim would be good for us, but we never got there and now she's dead, too. Don't you promise me anything too, Melisende."

"Sammy…"

"I just want the truth. I am not the little boy you think I am. Not anymore. I can handle it."

Melisende hesitated. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it just as fast. Sammy sighed. He pushed himself away from the fence and ran away, through the gates, through the village, and through the outer wall. He didn't look to see if Melisende followed. Instead, he focused on the woods and darted towards their shade.

…

The oppressive heat got to him and he had to sit down. Sammy found a large, gnarled old tree to sit under and catch his breath. Maker, but it was hot. He thought he was alone, that he had gotten away from Melisende, but to his surprise, she appeared in front of him, grasping at another tree's stump.

"Careful," she gestured for him to stay where he was. "You're sitting right under a bee's nest."

Sammy craned his neck upwards. She was right. He was sitting right under a bee's nest. "Oh."

Melisende motioned for him to join her under the other tree. Sammy took another glance at the bee's nest. It was a small, oval sphere and grey in color. Bees flew around it. Now that he had calmed somewhat, he could hear them buzzing around. He'd gotten stung by a bee once. It had not been pleasant. Even though he was angry with her, he went to her, carefully, for he did not want to attract the bees' attention.

"My father used to say that we could tell how much snow we would get in the winter and how cold it would be by how high the bee nest is perched." Melisende said as she watched the bee nest.

Sammy took another look at the nest. It was perched pretty high on the tree.

"Then we are going to have a lot of snow this winter," he said.

Melisende chuckled.

"Do you believe that?" Sammy asked.

"There is some truth and wisdom in what our parents tell us." Melisende regarded Sammy with what he could only describe as sorrow. She had lost her parents, too. "They also tell us a lot of ridiculous things, too. Try to frighten us from doing bad things, or lie to us, to protect us."

"My father used to say that, too. About the bees I mean. He used to say a lot of things."

"Remember them. They might come in handy one day." Melisende said with a slight smile.

Sammy frowned. "I was really little. I hardly remember him at all."

"It'll come back to you, when you least expect it. Like it did me just now." Melisende said.

"It's all lies anyway." Sammy said. Perhaps a little too sharply, for Melisende gave him a sad look and a sigh in return.

"Don't take your anger with me out on your father's memory."

"Why not?" Sammy asked. He just wanted to be left alone. He was tired of their non-explanations. "You're all the same. You all tell me lies. You all say that I'm just a child."

"Sometimes, even if it isn't right to do so, people tell lies to protect the people they love." Melisende said.

"I'd rather have the truth. Lies never did me any good." Sammy retorted. He thought of all the broken promises his parents had made him. Perhaps it wasn't their fault that they couldn't have been kept, but they didn't have to promise anything they knew wouldn't come true. And they didn't have to lie about everything being alright when it wasn't. Especially his mother.

"In the end, lies never do anyone good," said Melisende sadly.

"So tell me why you and Nathaniel hate each other so much all of a sudden." This would be the last time he would ask it of one of them. Sammy vowed that if she brushed him off again, or promised him everything would return to normal again, he would run away. He'd go to Amaranthine, board a ship, and leave forever. Somewhere, somebody would see that he was not a child anymore.

Melisende sighed, but looked him square in the eye. "Fine. But we don't _hate_ each other; at least I don't hate him…"

"So _he's_ mad with _you_?"

Melisende nodded. "And I am angry with myself. I did something horrible to Nate."

Sammy was confused. "Did you… stab him or something?"

Melisende shook her head. "No, what I did, the hurt cannot be seen. It is his heart I broke. I betrayed him."

"The hurt can be seen. I see the pain in his face all the time, when he looks at you."

Sammy saw the pain that brought to Melisende's face.

"So you betrayed him? You kissed another man?" Sammy wasn't all that sure about what her betrayal meant, for all his claims to not be a child anymore. He knew what men and women did. When his father had been around, they lived in a hovel, and he had heard everything that went on between his parents at night. Sammy knew all about the moans and weird noises adults made when they touched each other. But he didn't know what it meant.

"I did." Melisende admitted. Sammy was surprised she didn't look away in shame, for all it showed on her face.

"How could you do that to Nathaniel?" In his mind, Melisende and Nathaniel were as good as married. They seemed like it in real life anyway. He knew it was bad when a wife or a husband kissed someone else, but he didn't know if it was as bad if they weren't married. _Oh, I am so confused_.

"It's hard to explain. I don't want to tell you it is too complicated for you to understand, but I fear that is the truth Sammy. When you are older and when you fall in love, you _might_ understand then. Believe me, I can't even understand my heart right now."

"I understand betrayal." Sammy said.

"But not this kind."

"Well, can you make it all better?" Sammy asked. "Can't you just apologize to Nathaniel?"

"I've apologized. I don't know what good it did. I betrayed him. I don't know if it will ever be enough. I… I don't know what to do." Melisende looked close to tears. Sammy was disappointed in her. She caused all this. Now she didn't know how to make it better. But he also felt sorry for her, especially at this moment. She looked truly sorry for what she had done. If only Nathaniel could see her right now, maybe he could forgive her. But Sammy knew betrayal was hard to forgive.

"I don't want to talk anymore. It's too hot," he said. His thoughts were muddled. He couldn't bear to see Melisende cry. She nodded and rubbed at her eyes, as if she had noticed his discomfort at her state.

They sat there under the tree, listening to bees buzzing around, coming in and out of their nest. Sammy was grateful that she had finally told him the truth. But now, he was more puzzled than ever. He was angry with her for causing all this mess, but he needed her. He decided not to judge her. He hated being stuck in the middle of the situation, but he still had the both of them around. He hoped Melisende would not leave. Or Nathaniel. He vowed to be nicer to Nathaniel. It was the least he could do for hanging out with Melisende, who had broken Nate's heart.

After a while, Sammy got bored and itched to get away from the bee nest.

"You snuck up on me real good," he said, turning to Melisende. "How'd you learn to be so stealthy?"

Melisende laughed. "You weren't being very quiet, so it wasn't hard to mask my approach. As a girl, I used to sneak around the castle, spying on people, listening to things I shouldn't have."

"Will you teach me?" Sammy asked. He hoped she would.

"So you can spy on me?" Melisende asked with wide eyes.

"I promise, I won't." Sammy said. He tried not to grin, but it couldn't be helped. _Not you, but the others are fair game._

Melisende stood up. She trotted around the tree with quiet steps. "It's easy to be quiet, to walk light on your feet, to mould into the shadows…" she momentarily seemed to dissolve into the shadow of a nearby tree. "… to be unseen." She reappeared. "A lot of it is just feeling, instinct. I'm not sure I can teach it."

"Try!" Sammy said, standing up.

Melisende flashed him an impish grin. "Follow me." She began walking through the woods. "Have you ever been hunting?"

Sammy frowned as he followed her. "I've always lived at the Keep. But there was that one time with Nathaniel and Fergus. They didn't let me do much."

"Well, it's a lot like hunting. To catch prey, you need to think like a predator. Soft, careful steps, slow, but fluid movements, ready to pounce at the right moment. Or to freeze and listen to the whispers." She moved forward, much like a cat, like Ser-Pounce-a-Lot stalking mice. Sammy tried to copy her, but found himself stepping too heavily onto the ground and cracking twigs.

"Keep trying," she encouraged.

Melisende led him through the woods. He pretended to be Ser-Pounce-a-Lot on the hunt, only he was a tiger, not a tabby, and his prey was darkspawn. They meandered through the trees, pausing now and again to listen. They crawled and climbed over stray branches, leaving them untouched. If they had to move something out of their way, they did it as silently as they could, left it in as much the same state as before they got to it.

Near the stream, over the soft gurgling of water, they heard voices. Melisende gestured for them to listen in. It was a couple of women from the Keep, laundering their clothes and linens in the stream. Sammy strained his ears to hear over the sound of the water. It was hard.

"Can… Warden… get pregnant?" one of the women asked.

Sammy glanced at Melisende. He wondered if she could hear. Surely she could, she was the expert here.

"Why not?" the other woman asked in return. She had a louder voice than the other one. She would be easy to hear.

"… I swear… bigger… why else… would… break up … unfaithful?" the quieter woman said as she shook a tunic free of water. The other woman laughed.

"You think she'd be smart enough to use herbs, with the kind of lives they lead, fighting those monsters all the time. What would they do with a child? A bastard child too, it would be. It would be a monster too, probably, with the blood of enemies mingling through it, nothing good ever comes of that." The loud woman said.

"I heard…" another woman chimed in, but whispered whatever she had heard, as if she knew they were being spied on.

"Well, I'll be!" the woman said, slapping her hand on a meaty thigh. "It wouldn't be a Howe! Praise the Maker. But who would be the father?"

The other women continued chatting. Sammy grew frustrated that he couldn't hear what they were saying. Besides, whatever they were gossiping about was boring. It was women's stuff. Though, he did wonder why they mentioned the Howes. Was Delilah having another baby?

Sammy turned to Melisende, intending to plead with her to leave, but he didn't have to. Her face had gone pale, as white as a ghost. Her fearful eyes locked with his before she turned around and fled as silently as she could.


	13. Chapter 13: MELISENDE

XIII. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_I've been neglectful, but only because I've been so busy, showing Sammy swordplay, busy being avoided by Nathaniel. I've even rooted out some darkspawn from a cave. I didn't even have time to think. Now I sit alone, thinking on gossip I heard. Gossip about myself. I might have shoved the maids in the water, were I not so surprised… _

_I was showing Sammy how to be stealthy, but I got a lot more than I bargained for. Those women doing their laundry in the stream have opened my eyes, to a truth that I don't think I can deny._

_My bleeding has been irregular or nonexistent for months on end sometimes since I drank that vial of darkspawn blood and became a Grey Warden. The last time I had it was in the winter time, when the Orlesian Wardens were around and before I took ship to the Anderfels, before…_

_Oh, dire bunny, can they be right? Can those gossiping hens be right? I never thought it could happen._

_I have been nauseous. I've been sick several times in the morning, usually. My moods have been all over the place. But I attributed the former to the cold that I suffered in Highever, that perhaps it lingered still, and the moods, well, you know this girl has a lot to deal with lately. _

_Can I be with child? Am I now carrying the child I thought I would never have? I need to know for sure. I need to know, dire bunny. Those women were right, what kind of person would have a child when they have a life such as mine? I should have used herbs, but I didn't think it would ever happen._

_Oh, but that was when I was with Nathaniel. He is a Grey Warden, like me. It is rare that this ever happens, right? I mean, at least between two Grey Wardens._

_But I was with him once. Ronan. We both regretted it. He didn't say as much, but I could see it in his eyes. Ronan and I, that was never meant to happen. It is shameful for him, for a Dalish to be with a human. Now he is Maker only knows where. _

_I miss him. I might be carrying his child and he is nowhere to be found. That is all my fault, too. I called him _nothing_. I never meant that. He is so much more than that word. So much more. I wish I could tell him that. I wish he would come home. I would tell him… what would I tell him? It's not like we could ever be together. I love him. I would tell him that I love him. But that I wish we would have remained friends, that we never would have crossed that line._

_This will surely be the end of me and Nathaniel._

_What kind of hole have I dug for myself? How can I get out of this?_

_Do I want to get out of this?_

_I am a Grey Warden. But I am a woman too and if there really is a life growing inside of me, I must let it take root, even if it brings more shame down onto me, onto Nathaniel. If I could go back in time and undo that night, I would. It was a mistake. A sweet, sensual, and pleasurable mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. And now a child will pay for it. For what kind of life would a bastard, elf-blooded human Grey Warden child have?_


	14. Chapter 14: NATHANIEL

XIV. NATHANIEL

He watched her through the great fire. She was perched in front of a bookcase, frantically running her fingers over the dusty tomes, mouthing the titles. She searched up and down and left and right. He wondered what she was looking for as he crept around the fire, moving closer to her.

Nathaniel found it hard to look at Melisende. It seemed like every time he did, all he could think about was her betrayal – her legs and arms wrapped around another man, a faceless man who ran his hands over her body, his mouth bringing pleasure to her face. He could never remember anything good about her.

And lately, he'd had a dream of her standing over his father's dead body, bright red blood running down her sword, dripping slowly and maddeningly onto the floor, a cruel smile on her face. When he walked to the body of his father, his dream self realized that it wasn't his father after all, but himself. He woke in a sweat after that, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. He thought he was over that. It pained him to think so, but his father had deserved to die. Now, her betrayal was bringing that pain back.

_Father was an evil man. He deserved to die_, he repeated to himself as he reached Melisende. She hadn't noticed his approach. He buried his pain deep inside himself, hoping it would stay there this time. He couldn't bear it anymore.

"Looking for something in particular?" he asked, startling her. She stopped thumbing through the books on the shelves and turned to him, placing her hands to her sides before she began to fidget in her usual way – combing through her long brown locks. Nathaniel felt his heart skip a beat as he remembered how her hair felt running through his own hands. _Silky, soft, and torturously so. A man could die happy being strangled by hair like that_.

"Nathaniel," she said. She looked surprised to see him, to find him actually initiating a conversation with her. "I was just browsing."

"It's been long enough," he said. He had recently come to that conclusion. She had been away for some time and her absence had not eased his pain at all. He felt foolish for wanting her around, but even more foolish for purposely avoiding her. "It's childish, what is going on between us."

"It is." Melisende agreed. She twisted a lock of her hair absentmindedly. Nathaniel wished she wouldn't do that. Though she had betrayed him, he still desired her. But he wouldn't let her see that before he knew what to do with these unexpected feelings.

"I am your Commander; there must be communication between us. I will not have our problems cause havoc in the order. It is not fair, and it is not right for us to continue to let this happen."

"I agree," she nodded. She cast her eyes downwards. "This is my fault. No one should have to suffer for my folly." She looked at him then, with her deep blue eyes that Nathaniel had gotten lost in many times before. "Most especially you Nathaniel Howe."

He looked away. He couldn't bear to look at her. A few weeks ago, he felt only anger towards her, but now, his desire, his love for her came creeping in to mingle with the anger and the hurt. It was such an odd feeling altogether that he didn't know what to do. She had made him look a fool. She had betrayed him. For what? He still did not understand.

"Is it a folly now?" he asked. "I thought it was a betrayal."

"At the time, all I knew was grief for a friend I thought I had lost forever. I was so numb. I was so lost. I wanted to feel alive. There are two ways I know how to feel alive." She paused to close her eyes. "The first way is to pick up my swords and do battle. The second way is to make love."

"Then why didn't you take the mysterious man to war? Why did you have to sleep with him?"

"I have feelings for him."

"Have." Nathaniel repeated. The word felt bitter on his tongue. _Have, not had… what hope is there for us then?_ He prayed it was only a slip of the tongue. "It is someone you know very well then, for _feelings_ don't grow overnight."

"I…" she looked like she didn't know what to say. "I love you, still."

The words stirred something deep within him, but he crushed the feeling back down into his depths. They were just words, honeyed words she probably didn't really mean. How could she mean them? She had betrayed him with some other man, how could she love Nathaniel still? Honey was made by bees, and bees stung.

"Aye, so I am just a part of your little love triangle now, am I?"

"No! There is no love triangle…"

"There is not even a line." Nathaniel interrupted. "It seems to me this man has used you. You have lost me and now you have nobody, for where is this man? You are just a point, with no connection to any other point."

"Nathaniel," she said with watery eyes. "Do you have to be so mean?"

"You brought it upon yourself." Nathaniel said. He hadn't come here to make her cry. He didn't want that, really, but now that the floodgates were open, they were hard to close.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out with her hand, but holding back from touching him. He could tell she was fighting not to let any tear drop. "It was one mistake. I would undo it if I could."

"Even if you say you _have_ feelings for the man?"

"Yes," she said without flinching. He'd give her credit for that, but it wasn't enough. _She didn't say _had_, she didn't correct me. Present tense, not past tense._

"But you did it. Was I not enough for you?" Nathaniel asked, slipping closer to Melisende. "Did I do something wrong?" He took another step forward, Melisende took one backward. "Did I treat you wrongly?" She was back against the book shelf now. He was inches away from her. He could feel the heat from her body. "Did I not give you enough love?"

"You did nothing," a tear ran down her cheek. "You did everything. You are perfect."

Nathaniel shook his head as he wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. He hadn't planned on touching her, but the gesture came like a reflex. "No. If that were the case, if I were perfect, I would have seen right through you from the beginning. You Couslands think you can get away with anything…"

She slapped him hard on the cheek before he could continue. He backed away from her slightly.

"Don't you dare bring my family into this," she said, fuming mad now.

Nathaniel rubbed the cheek her hand had hit. He hadn't meant to mention her family. He only wanted her to understand the hurt she had caused him by hitting her where it would hurt the most. _Perhaps I am more like father than I thought_.

"Enough." Nathaniel said, to his thoughts, to Melisende. "I came here to come to an understanding, but perhaps I made it worse."

"For the good of everyone, I will forget you mentioned my family." Melisende warned with barely restrained anger. "But if you ever take your anger with me onto my family's memory again, I will not hesitate to do more than just slap you."

He grinned, despite himself. He'd always been attracted to her spitfire nature. "Then I shall not mention them in anger again. It was cruel and I apologize."

She nodded, satisfied it seemed. Somehow she had turned the tables on this conversation. He was apologizing now. _I don't want to hear any more apologies anyway. They are poison to my ears right now. I don't know what to believe anymore._

"Then I will go," she said, stepping aside from him.

"Wait," he said. She stopped in her tracks. "There is one more thing."

She turned her attention to him. "Oh?"

"I am sending you and Sigrun to Denerim."

"You're sending me away again?" she sighed. "You can't bear to look at me, I know, but Sammy…"

"Don't worry about Sammy." Nathaniel interrupted. "This is nothing to do with us. We need more recruits. The Grey Wardens of Ferelden are severely undermanned. If there were to be another Blight…"

"Three of us ended the last Blight. I hardly think there will be another in our lifetime." Melisende said. She wasn't too happy, it seemed, but Nathaniel didn't care. This needed to be done.

"Even so, it would be easier for all if there were more Grey Wardens. I need you to go to Denerim, Melisende. You have a way with King Alistair. Perhaps he could send some good men and women our way."

Melisende frowned. "I have a _way_ with Alistair?"

"There's nothing personal here. Just do as I say. I am your Commander."

"As you wish… _my lord_." Melisende turned away quickly and left the room before he could say more. He didn't understand her. She went from reasonable, to teary eyed, to angry, and then to feisty, all in the span of one reasonable conversation. He didn't raise his voice once. _Women_, he thought, shaking his head in her direction. _Perhaps more time away from each other will be good for all of us_.

"So, you're sending the trouble maker away?" a voice asked from the other side of the fire. He squinted at the fire and frowned. _Velanna_.

"How long have you been listening?" he asked as she stopped in front of him.

"Long enough," she said. "Was that supposed to be private? Why, I'm sorry, you should have talked somewhere else if that were the case."

Nathaniel sighed. He'd had enough irritable women for one day. "Did you need something, Velanna?"

"No."

Nathaniel stared at Velanna questioningly. She wasn't going away. She stared back at him intently, like she wanted to say something.

"I can see you have something to say. Spit it out," he said.

"You know I'm not one to hold my tongue."

"Then loosen it, m'lady."

"I knew it wouldn't end well. You, chasing the skirts of your father's murderer instead of taking vengeance like any sane person. I never could understand that."

That hurt more than he would care to admit. "And you never will. Life is not all about vengeance. And who says it has ended? Perhaps it is merely a bump in the road."

Velanna laughed once. "A very big bump if I heard correctly. She _betrayed _you with another man."

Nathaniel inhaled a breath and held it. He wondered what her point was as he let out the breath. "Yes, your clown ears heard correctly."

Velanna frowned. "I will pretend you didn't say that about my ears. I know how much pressure you are under as the new Commander."

"I'm busy, as well."

"We've been through much together, you and I. We fought the Mother, saved Amaranthine. I have come to respect you greatly. You know how hard that is for me to do."

"Right, on account of my human blood."

Velanna nodded, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. "We are friends. You can talk with me, anytime."

Nathaniel wanted to brush her away, and he probably should have, but he stood there and nodded slightly. Velanna moved her hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. She stared at him for a moment with her exotic elf eyes before moving closer to him, grasping him into a hug, much to his surprise.

She smelled of the outside, of herbs and flowers, very different from Melisende, who smelled of leather and steel most days. As he took in her scent, Nathaniel felt a shudder of delight run through his body, from her touch at the nape of his neck, from the feeling of her breasts crushing against his chest. And then, just like that, she let go.

"I'm here for you whenever you need me," she said before taking her leave.

_What was that, _he thought to himself as he found himself alone by the great hearth fire. _Somehow, I doubt her friendship will make things any easier…_


	15. Chapter 15: MELISENDE

XV. MELISENDE

_Dire bunny,_

_He's sending me away. At first, I was angry, thinking he did so only so he wouldn't have to look at me, despite all his protestations about wanting things to be normal again. Now, however, I think this is a good thing. The more I think about it, the more I come to like the idea of being sent away to Denerim with only Sigrun for a companion._

_Already, I feel my breasts growing larger. It is harder to fit them under my cuirass. I've had to loosen the strings. The servants noticed already, surely, it won't be long before Nathaniel notices. Going away will be a good thing. I can hide this until I figure out what to do._

_Sigrun will be a good companion, too, I think. She wouldn't betray my trust, not the way Velanna would, were it her coming in Sigrun's stead. I know I shouldn't speak ill of a fellow Grey Warden, but Velanna and I have never gotten along. She speaks her mind far too much. There is much to be said about a woman speaking her mind. I admire that in women. Far better they speak their mind than fade into the wallpaper and say nothing or leave the talking to men. I strive to do the same. But there comes a point when speaking your mind and manners have to mingle. Velanna does not care at all what she says and most of what is on her mind is hurtful. In that way, she is much like Morrigan, another person I never really got along well with. I know without a doubt that Velanna would go running to Nathaniel to tell him everything. I see the way she looks at him, for all her claims to hate humans, he is one of a very few who don't bring loathing to her eyes when she looks at him. _

_In any case, I must make sure to say goodbye to Sammy this time around. I know how angry he was with me the last time I left on Warden business. He is always fearful that people are going to leave him for good. I don't blame him. That's all we Wardens seem to do. If we don't run away, chances are we'll die fighting. _

_It is this kind of life I cannot bear to bring a child of my own into. One grows inside of me, I am sure now, though it is still early. There are children everywhere who have parents who go off to war, but now, there is peace in Ferelden. But there is never peace for Grey Wardens. We have to remain vigilant always. There is always a darkspawn threat. I can only imagine the lives of dwarven children, whose parents fight off darkspawn each and every day. I want a normal life for my child. I want my child to grow up the way I did, with a mother and a father and no worries at all. That is not the kind of life it is going to get._

_Would Ronan take his child? I am sure it is his. I have not been with Nathaniel since I betrayed him. I couldn't bear it. I pushed him away, claiming tiredness or a headache, or anything. I felt too guilty and didn't want to take advantage of him. _

_Ronan said children were nothing but little bags of turds, but I saw how gentle he was with that little girl of his clan. The only problem is, this child would look human. Tristan himself was given up as a baby for this very reason. The Dalish are very taboo about elf-blooded humans. Ronan himself was so ashamed to be attracted to me, to have been with me, I could see it in his eyes. _

_I fear I have much thinking to do while in Denerim. I will not bring you with me dire bunny. I will not have time to write in you. You will be safe here in Vigil's Keep, in your secret hiding spot._


	16. Chapter 16: SIGRUN

XVI. SIGRUN

Even the Legion of the Dead had not been this cheerless. The atmosphere in the Keep was enough to make Sigrun want to crawl back to her grave in the Deep Roads. And that was where she was headed, thank the ancestors. To Orzammar, anyway, but it was close enough to her old haunts that she was happy to get away for once. Of course, she first had to go to Denerim.

She wished she had a bronto, though. The road to Denerim was long. Not to mention they'd have to turn back in the other direction and walk even farther once they headed to Orzammar. She could walk miles within the Deep Roads, but somehow, walking miles topside was a lot more daunting. A bronto would have speeded up the journey, though she'd never ridden one before. Some dwarves did, but not her. She was Dust Town born and raised. She made use with what she had, even if it were so little, like her legs.

Melisende was ahead of her, thanks to her long legs. Not fair. Not fair at all. But Sigrun had gotten used to life being unfair. It was easy to shrug these things off now. And that is what she did then, on the open road.

Sigrun considered making small talk with Melisende, but somehow, that didn't seem like a good idea at this point. The woman was too far ahead of her, striding along angrily, if the set of her shoulders were any indication. Her fists were closed tight, dangling at her sides. Sigrun couldn't imagine that meant anything good. The only people who walked with their fists that way were angry people.

One of those fists rose up and uncurled as Melisende bent her arm in a halting gesture.

"There's someone up ahead," Melisende whispered loudly.

Sigrun squinted at the road ahead. At first look, she couldn't see anything at all, but then a man came out of the small forest at the side of the road. She thought she heard a groan escape Melisende's mouth before the woman turned to her.

"It's the smuggler." Melisende explained.

Sigrun was momentarily confused, but as the man noticed them and came swaggering towards them, she remembered. The Antivan had brought some sort of message to Nathaniel at the Keep. She hadn't learned what it was and neither had she bothered to ask. Some things were meant only for the ears of commanders and she was okay with that. Being in the Legion of the Dead, growing up in Dust Town had taught her not to question those above her, at least, not in public.

"Ah, my lady!" Leandro said as he reached them. "I did not mean to startle you. I was just answering nature's call."

"Leandro." Melisende acknowledged with a slight nod. "I don't think you've met Sigrun."

Leandro turned to Sigrun, all smiles. "I have not had the pleasure. Another Grey Warden, I presume?"

Melisende sighed. "Yes, she is a Grey Warden. You'll excuse us, but we need to be on our way."

"Oh?" Leandro glanced at the two of them questioningly. "We are headed in the same direction, I see, may I share the road with you two?"

"You're going to Denerim?" Melisende asked, a look of disbelief covering her face.

"Amaranthine has lost its charm for me." Leandro replied. "I thought I'd try the capital for a while."

"I would have thought you would go by sea," said Melisende, curtly.

"And miss the wonderful views of the open road?" Leandro swept his arm across the air to point out the not so impressive views, at least in Sigrun's view. The road was a crumbling old highway, with a patch of evergreen forest to the side and nothing much ahead of them. "I think not."

"Fine. Whatever." Melisende shrugged. "It's not like I can kick you off the road. Walk with us if you like."

"Oh, my heart flutters at such an invitation." Leandro mocked, placing a hand over his chest. He looked annoyed though. So did Melisende, who began to walk ahead again. Sigrun followed while Leandro fell in step besides her. _That's probably a good idea_, Sigrun thought, _for Melisende does not seem to like him, though I don't know why_.

Sigrun had never met an Antivan before. She couldn't help but smile wickedly as she thought of the book in the Keep's library with the picture of an Antivan – _what was it, again?_ – milk sandwich? Whatever it had been called, she wondered if this Leandro fellow had ever tried that position. Leandro must have noticed the way she was smiling for he grinned back at her.

"It is so refreshing to see that dwarven women do exist!" he said. "And what pretty little things they are. How did I not notice you at the Keep?"

Sigrun frowned. She might have just pondered naughty thoughts about him, but that didn't mean she wanted the man to hit on her for real. There was no place for that sort of thing in her life. "Call me a pretty little thing again, surfacer, and I'll show you how a dwarven woman wields a sword."

Leandro snickered. "A sword, or a _sword_?" He flashed her an impish grin as he looped a finger through his belt and tugged at his pants.

Sigrun closed her eyes for a second. _This'll be fun_, she thought as she unsheathed her sword slowly while staring cold eyed at Leandro. "From my vantage point, it wouldn't be that difficult for my sword to meet your _sword_. What kind of sound do you think it would make? A clang… a splatter?"

Melisende stopped to see what was happening. "Ew," she said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Leandro held his hands up in surrender. "No need to get violent. I only meant to compliment you. The only dwarves I see are usually of the male persuasion."

"Then be thankful," Sigrun said, sheathing her sword. "For dwarven women are no strangers to combat and would not hesitate to take on anyone taller than them."

"I'll keep that in mind, then." Leandro said.

"As much as I am enjoying this mindless chatter," Melisende said with a grin. "It's time to go. Shall we get a move on?"

"Certainly." Sigrun said, motioning for Melisende to continue.

They walked for hours, past forests, broken fences, farmland, and fields of wild flowers. The sun was strong and hot and beat down on them relentlessly. Sigrun was not used to walking in the sun, but she did not complain. She couldn't shake the feeling, however, that they were being followed. She got the impression that she wasn't the only one of her walking companions to feel this way for both Melisende and Leandro had tense looks about them, their hands never straying far from their weapons.

Finally, they decided to break for the night. The sun was setting and they found a nice rest area just off the highway. Sigrun flung her small pack on the ground and then did the same with herself. Her legs were very tired. She stretched out as she watched the others do the same.

"Did anyone else get the feeling that we're being followed?" Melisende asked, leaning against a tree.

"You aren't the only one with that feeling." Sigrun admitted.

"I thought so too." Leandro said. He had two hand axes that he placed close to his side before taking a seat on the hard ground. "Bandits, perhaps."

"We should remain vigilant then." Melisende said. "No fires."

"And a watch while others sleep." Sigrun suggested.

Melisende nodded her assent. "I'll take first watch."

"I could do it first." Leandro said as he bit into an apple.

"That won't be necessary." Melisende said sharply. Leandro shrugged and continued to eat his apple. Sigrun felt her stomach rumble in response to his actions and searched her pack for something to eat.

As she filled her belly with food, Sigrun couldn't help but feel like a sitting duck, just waiting to be attacked. But as the minutes went on, quite awkwardly she had to admit, the feeling went away and she began to feel silly. There were no bandits around; surely, they had taken care of all of them by now. The Blight, and the chaos surrounding it were long over. Bandits would have been quashed by the King's army. Or at least, that was what she told herself as she closed her eyes for rest.

"I must apologize to you, Leandro." Melisende's voice cut through the otherwise quiet of the growing darkness. Sigrun kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep.

"Must you?" Leandro retorted.

"Yes," Melisende said. "I have been very rude to you. I am sorry for that. You did not deserve to be treated thus."

"Ah, no worries." Leandro said. "I am used to that."

"Nevertheless, it does not excuse my behavior. I think I was simply taking my anger with the message you brought out on you."

"I did not think such good news would bring you so much anger."

"It was good news, yes, but…"

"Not what you expected?"

"Nothing I ever expected." Melisende paused briefly. "It's put me in an awkward position with the other Wardens. With Sammy, too. I mean, you heard what he said the other day…"

"My heart broke for him."

"I wanted to tell him."

"You can't."

"And that is why I am angry. I don't like this one bit."

"I am sorry. I am only the messenger."

Sigrun wondered what they were talking about. What was it that Melisende couldn't speak of? That she had to hide from the rest of them, including Sammy? What could it possibly be? They said no other words for a while. Sigrun was drifting into sleep with these thoughts when Melisende spoke again. _Am I to get any rest tonight?_

"What did you mean, when you said that if it weren't for the man that raised you that…" Melisende paused, perhaps to see if Sigrun were awake still. "…my friend wouldn't be here?"

"The man who raised me, his name was Red." Leandro seemed to hesitate before continuing. "He wasn't always Red, though. He was born Rory Amell."

"Why does that sound familiar?" Melisende asked. Sigrun asked the same in her head. It did sound familiar.

"You might know him as Tristan's father."

"Tristan's father?" Melisende asked. Sigrun detected a hint of disbelief in her voice. Sigrun felt very much the same. "But he died long ago."

"No, he did not."

"Is he…"

_Still alive?_ Sigrun finished Melisende's own unspoken question.

"He is… dead." Leandro said with clear sadness.

"Oh." Melisende said. "I don't understand, though. What does this have to do with what I asked you?"

"He only passed away recently. We were sailing to Val Royeaux in the springtime, when we came upon a shipwreck. Red sent me to search the waters, even though it looked like nothing valuable or anybody had survived. I found him there, in the debris."

"So he saved his own… They knew each other, then."

"For a little while, though Red kept it a secret from all until his dying breath. He was ashamed. He had no reason to be in my opinion, but he was."

Sigrun couldn't believe what she was hearing. She couldn't feign sleep anymore. Her eyes shot open and she caught the sympathetic look of Melisende towards a suddenly weary looking Leandro.

"Tristan is alive." Sigrun stated. The two of them turned to her in surprise. "That was the message you brought to the Keep."

Leandro was tongue tied, but Melisende spoke up. "Yes. He is alive."

"Why was it kept secret from all of us?"

"He wanted it that way." Leandro explained.

"So he's not coming back?"

"Perhaps, in time." Leandro replied.

"I'm sorry Sigrun." Melisende said. "I know you may not believe this, but I would have told you. I would have told you all sooner or later. I hate keeping secrets; however, this was not mine to share. And now you know the truth, no matter how you learned it."

"So he runs again." Sigrun sighed. "The reluctant Commander strikes again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Perhaps, she'd even known he was not dead. It was too convenient, to be swept away to sea. Everyone had assumed he was dead. Sigrun should have known better than to assume something. It was too common a death for a hero. All the tales of heroes she'd ever heard ended in an epic way. This was just another mysterious chapter in the Hero of Ferelden's life.

"Perhaps we should get some rest." Leandro said as he closed his eyes.

"Yes, it is getting dark now." Melisende said as she looked to the sky, a dark blue now. "You two rest. I will wake one of you in a few hours."

"Fine." Sigrun agreed. She closed her eyes to sleep for real this time.

…

Her blood tingled; she heard faint whispers in her mind. Sigrun jolted awake to find a snarling hurlock standing over her, his double-edged axe raised and poised to strike. She had just enough time to roll away before the axe came crashing down to the ground where moments ago she slept. Sigrun grabbed her sword and swung at the hurlock's legs, cutting right through the grotesque flesh. The hurlock fell forward and she stabbed him in the back, straight through to the heart.

Catching her breath and shaking herself awake, Sigrun took in her surroundings. It was early morning, the time just before the sun rises, and a light fog surrounded their camp. They were being attacked by a small group of darkspawn stragglers. She saw Leandro, a small axe in each hand, hacking at the monsters that swarmed him. He took down a genlock as he struck the top of its head. He slashed a hurlock's chest then kicked it back towards its companions, giving Leandro time to swing around and gut an oncoming hurlock, charging toward him with monstrous sword raised.

_How many are there? If there are any emissaries or ogres, _she thought_, then we are surely finished. Three cannot take on a band._

At her mind's mention of three, Sigrun looked around for Melisende. She found her by the edge of the forest, fighting off a handful of the spawn. She fought languidly, her swords swinging here and there slowly. She kicked desperately at her attackers, blocking hacking blows from the spawn. At the look of panic that shot through Melisende's face as the creatures swarmed her, Sigrun charged forward, cutting through the darkspawn to reach her fellow Grey Warden. When next Sigrun looked up, a hurlock in chainmail had gotten a hold of Melisende, a dagger at her throat – her swords on the ground.

"Stop!" Sigrun yelled as loud as she could. Most of the darkspawn around her were dead. She chanced a glance in Leandro's direction. He clutched his axes, breathing hard, and stood warily by a few darkspawn. Amazingly, the force of her yell had stopped all the fighting. She turned back to the hurlock holding Melisende at knifepoint.

"Let her go," she said, though for all she knew the darkspawn was a dimwit, unable to comprehend her words.

The darkspawn let out what Sigrun assumed was a laugh.

"Run away." Melisende gasped, locking eyes with Sigrun. "Forget about me. Get word to the others…"

Sigrun shook her head. She had run from a fight once when in the Legion. She had always regretted it. She would not run from this. "Never," she said.

The remaining darkspawn fidgeted. Their hands itched to rejoin the fight, to finish off these Wardens. The hurlock in chainmail, however, would not let them. _He is their leader_, Sigrun thought.

"Your kind killed the Mother," the hurlock in chainmail said finally. _A disciple, then. I thought they were all gone, dead or following the Architect._

"The Mother sent an army against us, but we crushed it." Melisende said through gritted teeth. Her grin was soon wiped away as the disciple wrenched her arm back violently. She let out a cry of pain.

"Where is the one that killed the Mother and let the _other one_ walk free? Where is your commander?" the disciple hissed.

Sigrun sucked in her breath. If she said Tristan was dead, the disciple might kill Melisende. If she told the truth and said they didn't know where Tristan was, then the disciple still might kill Melisende. Sigrun could not let that happen.

"What do you want with the commander?" she asked, stalling for time. She had to come up with something to free Melisende from the disciple's grip.

"Revenge," the disciple croaked. His voice was grating to her ears. Sigrun really hated these talking darkspawn.

"Why don't you crawl back to the Deep Roads where you belong?" Melisende spoke again. _Does the woman have a death wish, or is she stalling for time, too? _Sigrun tensed, just waiting and expecting for the moment when the disciple would lose patience and slit Melisende's throat.

"Keep quiet," he hissed instead. "Tell me where to find him and I'll give you the release you seek."

"You might as well slit my throat and be done with it then, for I will never tell the likes of you anything." Melisende said defiantly. She even leaned her head back a little more, baring her neck to the disciple's crude dagger. Sigrun gripped her sword tighter, ready to spring forward.

The disciple opened his mouth, baring his razor sharp teeth in anger. It seemed to Sigrun that time slowed. She took a step forward, not knowing what she intended to do, only that she had to stop the creature from doing the unthinkable. She heard nothing, only saw an arrow suddenly lodge in the disciple's arm. It was enough for the monster to lose his concentration.

Melisende slipped from under the disciple's grasp and Sigrun reached for the dagger at her belt, pulled it out, and then threw it square in the middle of the disciple's eyes in one fluid movement. She reached the disciple, who staggered backwards in surprise, clawing at the dagger stuck in his forehead, and she shoved her sword through his heart, the sound of sword hitting chainmail ringing out through the early morning.

The rest of the darkspawn lost heart and it was an easy enough task to finish them off. When the last of the monsters was dead, Sigrun again took in her surroundings. Leandro was spattered with gore, and but for a small cut on his arm, he looked no worse for wear. Melisende, on the other hand, sat slumped where she had been held hostage, staring off in the distance.

"I've never actually seen a darkspawn before, only ever heard stories about their beastliness. I never heard anyone say that they could talk, either." Leandro said as he came to stand by Sigrun.

Sigrun had nothing to say about that. There were some things that Grey Wardens were better off not spreading tales about, and talking, thinking darkspawns were one of those. Besides, she was worried about Melisende. She went over to her fellow Grey Warden.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I fell asleep." Melisende said, looking right through Sigrun with a guilty expression on her face. She rubbed her arm where the disciple had gripped her roughly. "I never fall asleep. I'm sorry."

Sigrun felt a rush of anger wash over her at finding that out. "We could've all been killed," she said angrily.

"It happens," she heard Leandro say nonchalantly behind her.

"It should not have happened." Melisende quickly said. "I never fall asleep during watch."

"_Never_ is such a fickle word. It's like an automatic jinx. You say something will never happen, and then, _bam_, it happens." Leandro said, waving his arms in the air to illustrate the _bam_.

Sigrun narrowed her eyes in his direction. He wasn't helping. Melisende should know better, and Sigrun took a deep breath, to try and calm herself. Melisende _did_ know better and she was apologizing for it. That should be enough for Sigrun, as it was for Leandro, but something was bothering her, preventing her anger from subsiding. _The arrow_.

"If it weren't for the arrow, you might not even have had the chance to be apologizing right now." Sigrun said to Melisende.

"What arrow?" Melisende asked, finally meeting Sigrun's eyes.

"The one that saved your life." Sigrun pointed at the corpse of the disciple, the arrow sticking out of his arm. Still seated, Melisende squinted in that direction.

"Lucky the creature's chainmail did not extend to his arms." Leandro said.

Melisende stood up and studied the trees opposite. "Show yourself, whoever you are."

For a long moment, nothing at all happened. Then the sound of quiet footsteps, and a face peeking around a tree. _Is that_...

"Sammy!" Melisende exclaimed, surprise and concern evident in her voice. The boy trotted shyly into their camp, stepping gingerly over and away from darkspawn corpses. A bow was strung over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows over the other.

"Ha, saved by a boy!" Leandro said, drawing a grin from Sammy.

"What are you doing here?" Melisende asked, a frown on her face, though Sigrun thought that it might be forced for there was a little bit of pride in her features as well.

"I followed you." Sammy answered, coming to a stop in front of them. _Obviously_, Sigrun thought.

"Why?" Melisende asked.

Sammy shrugged. "I didn't want to stay at the Keep."

Leandro mussed the boy's blonde hair. "Good for you."

"Don't encourage him." Melisende shot a disapproving look at Leandro, her lips drawn tight and her brow furrowed.

"What? He saved us. A boy always knows when it's time to become a man." Leandro defended himself.

Melisende sighed and stared at Sammy thoughtfully.

"You're not going to send me back, are you?" he asked, uncomfortable it seemed under her scrutiny.

Melisende shook her head. "You might as well continue with us. I don't trust the road anymore."

"Yes!" Sammy said with a pump of his fist and a slight jump in the air.

Melisende grabbed the boy into a hug as soon as his feet hit the ground. He seemed embarrassed, but she wouldn't let go. Her voice was muffled to Sigrun's ears, but she was sure she heard Melisende thanking the boy before reluctantly letting him go. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I am." Sammy insisted.

"Your first taste of battle?" Leandro asked the boy.

Sammy nodded. "Sort of. I've never taken a shot at these bastards before now."

"Sammy!" Melisende chastised.

Leandro laughed. "A little scary, am I wrong? Anyway, nothing hard about killing monsters threatening your family. Just wait till you kill a person." Leandro wore a wistful expression on his face. Sigrun almost felt pity for him. "It's a whole different story when that happens."

Sammy stared wide eyed at the reformed smuggler. _A look of wonder, perhaps?_ "You have to tell me about…"

"Sammy, enough." Melisende interrupted. "We shouldn't linger here any longer." She shot a look of loathing at Leandro. "And Maker forbid he ever have to kill a _person_."

Sigrun turned her gaze to the darkspawn corpses, blood and gore streaming into the ground around them. The sun was rising now, shining light onto the ugly monsters. They had more of the long walk ahead of them.

"We might as well get going. We could make Denerim by dinner time." Sigrun said, moving away from their camp and toward the long road to the capital city.


	17. Chapter 17: SAMMY

XVII. SAMMY

"Hey," Sammy shouted when a scrawny boy his own age rammed into his shoulder roughly as they passed each other in the market. "Watch it!"

The boy looked back at him with a taunting smirk. Sammy noticed with satisfaction that the boy was missing several teeth already, whereas he still had a full set. The boy's smirk washed right off his face, however, as he bumped into something solid and strong: Leandro. The reformed smuggler glared at him while motioning with his left hand to…

"Hand it over," Leandro said. The boy claimed innocence, holding up his hands in protest, but only for a second. He began to slowly back away. Leandro reached for the boy's arm and gripped him hard. _Oh_, Sammy thought, _this'll be good_.

"I know you for what you are, boy. You're just what I used to be, but you know where I grew up?" Leandro pulled the boy closer, leaning down slightly to meet him eye to eye. The boy shook his head nervously. "Llomerryn, where everyone is a cutpurse, where cutpurses steal from cutpurses. You have to have the deftest fingers, the stoniest face, and the humblest walk to get away with it. You, my boy, would be a hand shorter right now, were this Llomerryn. Lucky for you, it is only Denerim, the safest town in Thedas when placed next to Llomerryn. Now, hand it back."

With his free hand, the boy withdrew from his pockets a small pouch, which he threw at Leandro's feet. He took off running as soon as Leandro released his hold. Sammy bent to pick up the pouch. With wide eyes, he realized it was his pouch. A moment ago it had been hanging at his waist, dangling off a short rope.

"I didn't even realize he'd taken it." Sammy said in amazement. He pulled on the pouch's drawstring to see inside. His meager savings still remained where he'd left them. He fixed his gaze on Leandro. "Thanks."

Leandro shrugged. "I believe the appropriate expression is that it takes one to know one."

"But you're reformed, or so I hear." Sammy said, a little confused at Leandro's remark.

"You hear right, but some instincts never leave." Leandro motioned them forward. "Besides, that kid was an amateur."

"Sammy?" he heard Melisende call out from ahead. She stood by Sigrun, searching the crowded market for him. Denerim was the largest city he'd ever been to. They'd marched all day and now that the sun was beginning its slow descent to dark, they'd arrived. He used to think Amaranthine was crowded, but now, Sammy was beginning to think he'd known nothing. The amount of people walking about the market excited him. There were all kinds of people, too, and not just humans, but dwarves and elves. There were Templars and guardsmen, and nobles and peasants. And there were so many merchant stalls with so many nice looking swords. He wondered if he had enough money to buy one of his own. Attaching his pouch securely at his side, though, he realized he probably didn't even have half of what was needed to buy a new sword.

Crestfallen, he tugged at Leandro's tunic to stop him from catching up to Melisende and Sigrun. Sammy had been involved in his share of mischief at the Keep, but never had he stolen anything worthy. Perhaps Leandro could give him some pointers. Leandro watched him curiously, waiting for him to say something.

"Will you teach me how to…"

"Steal?" Leandro interrupted, chuckling. "I stole to survive, because it was asked of me by a very nasty person. You don't need to go down that road, and if the Maker is good, he'll see that it stays that way. Now, let's go, before that protector of yours cuts me to pieces."

Sammy was puzzled enough to forget for a moment that Leandro had shot him down, refusing his request. "Melisende would never unsheathe her swords on you without good reason."

"It's not her swords I'm worried about, but her eyes." Leandro said, nodding toward where Melisende stood. Sammy followed Leandro's nod. Melisende's gaze pierced their direction, hooded by her furrowed brow. Leandro was right. _She could behead a man with that look_.

"Then we should go," Sammy agreed, placing one foot in front of the other to reach the two women waiting for them. Melisende had crossed her arms now and her mouth was pursed into a frown. Sigrun just looked impatient, standing by Melisende's side.

"Sammy, _la gente esta muy loca_." Leandro said as they caught up to Melisende and Sigrun finally. Sammy tilted his head questioningly at the Antivan, not comprehending his words.

"People are very crazy." Leandro offered in a whisper. Evidently, the wind carried words easily in this city, for Melisende heard.

"I hope you don't mean me," she said, still looking like a madwoman intent on cutting Leandro to pieces with her eyes. Leandro shook his head vehemently, but turning to Sammy and hiding his face with his hand, he nodded. Sammy laughed. It wasn't that far from the truth lately, though he wouldn't call her crazy, just… distracted. He didn't think it possible, but Melisende frowned harder.

"What happened?" she asked. "You were behind me one minute and the next I looked you weren't. This is Denerim. It's best you don't wander off on your own. I allowed you to come because I thought it would be safer than sending you back."

"Leandro rescued my pouch from a cutpurse." Sammy explained as his laughter subsided.

"It was an amateur job, easy to rectify." Leandro said as Melisende glanced at him curiously.

Melisende sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you Leandro."

"Ah, it was nothing."

"In any case, we should continue on our way." Melisende said, turning to Sigrun.

"What are our plans, anyway?" Sigrun asked. "Whatever they are, I could use a bite to eat first."

Sammy felt his stomach rumble at Sigrun's mention of eating. He'd worked in the kitchens at the Keep and so he never went hungry. But walking on the road, he'd munched on a bit of food that Melisende had brought with her. When he left the Keep, he had neglected to think of his stomach, which was odd, considering he was always hungry these days.

"Before you say more," Leandro piped in, "I will take my leave of your company now. It was a pleasure."

Sammy was sorry the man was leaving. He was a lot of fun and he hadn't yet asked Leandro all he wanted to know of his adventures. Sammy sent a pitiful look to Melisende. She arched a brow at him and then took a long inhalation of breath before turning to Leandro.

"If you would allow it, I would like to buy you dinner." Melisende said through a long exhalation.

Leandro grinned. "Oh? Whatever for?"

"Don't push your luck." Sigrun said with a slight shake of her head. "Just accept the offer. I'm hungry."

"Me too." Sammy said.

"You have been such a sweetheart since we met, but really, I never expected such goodwill. What have I done to deserve a free meal?" Leandro pushed in a sarcastic manner, much to Sigrun's regret Sammy thought as he witnessed the dwarven woman shut her eyes in exasperation.

Melisende bit her lip in frustration, but otherwise stayed calm. "If you had not been with us on the road, things might have been different."

"Ah," Leandro said, brushing the hilt of one of his axes. "I can live with that. Let's go, I'm starving."

…

The aroma of the stew wafted up into his nose, causing his stomach to rumble in hunger. It smelled fresh and faintly spicy. When he looked at the bowl before him, though, the stew did not look so good after all. It almost looked like vomit. But Sammy was hungry, so he ripped off a hunk of bread and dipped it into the stew. He stuffed the bread into his mouth. It tasted good after all. _Appearances can be deceiving_, he thought to himself as he wolfed down the rest of the bread.

The _Gnawed Noble Tavern_ was crowded – with wealthy patrons, mostly, but here and there were a couple of mercenaries or city guards. Sammy eyed their armour and weapons appreciatively. He wished he could someday be able to own such things. For now, all he owned was the bow and arrow he slung over the chair he sat on, and the rusty old dagger hidden in his boot. And those weren't even really his. They were loaned to him by the Keep's weapon smith, who had expected them to be returned the same day he'd left the Keep.

He caught Melisende's gaze and instantly felt bad for having taken the weapons on a false promise, but, he told himself, they'd come in handy, just as his skills had, just as Nathaniel had told him in the courtyard a few days ago. In fact, he was glad he had disobeyed the rules; otherwise Melisende, Sigrun, and Leandro might never have gotten out of that mess with the darkspawn.

"Sammy, did you tell anyone of your plans to leave Vigil's Keep?" Melisende asked him, cutting through the silence of the dinner table. Though, Sammy wouldn't say it was completely silent, with all the other patrons making a raucous noise and the sounds of eating besides.

He paused his slurping of the stew. "No," he admitted, forming his face into an apologetic smile. "If I had told anyone, do you think I'd be here right now? You know they would have stopped me."

Melisende frowned and let out a sighing breath. "We'll have to send word to Nathaniel then."

After another few moments of everyone doing nothing but eating, Sammy couldn't hold himself back any longer. Leandro would soon leave, and there were things he still wanted to ask about him. "I've never seen anybody fight with two hand axes before. Where'd you learn that?"

Leandro turned his friendly brown eyes towards Sammy. "Somebody thought it'd be funny." A dark look overcame the man. Sammy guessed it wasn't a pleasant memory, so he decided not to push.

"Well, whoever it was, you showed them." Sammy said.

Another one of his warm smiles replaced the dark look on Leandro's face. "I guess I did."

"What was it like to be a smuggler?" Sammy asked.

"I regret inviting you now," Melisende groaned.

Leandro grinned and then shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. After he swallowed that, he turned to Melisende. "But, you admit I was useful."

"Yes," Melisende said, "yes I did. Please don't answer that question, though. We don't need Sammy to get any more ideas than his young head already has."

Sammy frowned. "Please answer my question. I'm only curious."

Leandro hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth between Melisende and Sammy. "The life of a smuggler… is a hard one. You get little sleep. There is always paranoia. What if you get caught? Will your mates help you out? Most likely, they'll forget you ever existed. Then you're stuck in jail, maybe sent to the gallows. Maybe lose a limb. There is always danger. From your boss, from your friends even. There's more backstabbing than the Orlesian court. Greedy people fill your days, trying to take you down with them. Trying to make you forget that you are a person, all in the name of coin." Leandro paused, ignoring the pointed look Melisende was giving him. Sammy watched him eagerly, willing him to continue.

"It's rare you ever get to live in a mansion," Leandro continued, much to Melisende's chagrin, "unless you're the one with no conscience, willing to bloody your hands and undercut everyone around you, making a million enemies on your way to the top. Even then, it's lonely at the top. My boss found that out, the greedy, insane, cock sucking bastard. I was no better than his slave. And he got what he deserved in the end."

Sammy stared at Leandro. He didn't know what to say. That didn't sound at all like what he thought was the life of a smuggler. He'd had an image in his head of ships and daring midnight drop offs through caves and coves, brave evasions of the guards, raiders even. And piles and piles of coin and treasures.

"Sounds a lot like Dust Town," Sigrun remarked after being quiet for so long.

"From what I heard about that place… I would say that is right." Leandro agreed.

Melisende was just as speechless as Sammy. She watched Leandro with a pitiful look in her eyes, no longer annoyed with him it seemed. She pushed away her plate of food. "It's good you got out of that life then," she said.

"It couldn't have all been bad." Sammy said.

Leandro shrugged. "There's good people stuck in that life. But most aren't worth praying for and are way past redemption."

Sammy placed his spoon to the side. He was full now and his eyes felt heavy all of a sudden. He wanted to curl up in a corner and sleep. He felt Sigrun watching him. She'd been quiet and thoughtful since they left the campsite, the carnage of the darkspawn battle. He thought he might know why. Just like that, she brought it up.

"Sammy, how long were you following us?" she asked curiously.

Sammy took a long gulp of water. "All the way."

"And what did you hear?" Sigrun continued watching him.

Leandro paused drinking, and Melisende watched him intently. _They think I don't know_.

"Before the darkspawn came, I heard a lot of things. The crickets were loud and quite annoying, too. And I can't forget the frogs. They croaked like it was the end of the world. Then there was the fire that crackled every time the wind came through. The trees cracked and rustled in the wind, too." He shrugged, feeling a little guilty for prolonging the moment, but the bewildered and impatient expressions on their faces were worth it. They seemed to want to jump out of their chairs, to let go of their breath. They hung on his every word. "And you know, I heard you guys speaking."

"And?" Sigrun asked.

"And I heard the truth."

"The truth about what?"

Sammy made a point of looking around the room suspiciously before leaning in and lowering his voice to a whisper. "That _he_ is alive."

A hush overcame their little part of the tavern. Sammy flicked his green eyed gaze to Melisende. "You should have told me."

She met his gaze with a guilty expression. "It wasn't my secret to tell, and it isn't yours."

"So I have to keep this a secret?"

"For now, yes." Melisende said, nodding her head.

"I hate secrets." Sammy whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Believe me, so do I." Melisende replied wistfully.

Sammy had been furious as he'd eavesdropped on their campfire. Furious and a little relived too. Tristan was alive. But the feelings of disappointment that crept into him as he heard the truth had almost been enough for him to turn his back on Melisende and Nathaniel forever. But where would he go, alone, with his meager savings? He had tried to bury his anger and disappointment as he had drifted off to sleep.

Then the darkspawn attacked. They had Melisende, were going to kill her. He knew he had to do something. He was so nervous though, he wasn't sure he could do it. Aiming that arrow, praying not to hit Melisende, he'd forgiven her. It wasn't her or Nathaniel's fault that Tristan didn't want to come back, didn't want anyone to know he was alive.

"We should get a room for the night." Melisende suggested after a moment. She was about to stand up when a man in finery stopped by their table.

"Lady Melisende?" the man asked.

"Yes," Melisende replied with a puzzled glance at the man.

"The King requests the presence of you and your companions," the messenger said. "I will accompany you to the royal palace."

"Oh." Melisende remarked, staring at each of her companions in turn.

_The King?_ Sammy thought excitedly. Suddenly, all thoughts of Tristan and secrets fled from his mind and he wasn't so tired anymore. _King Alistair?_

Leandro stood up. "I doubt that invitation extends to me." Leandro stretched his arms and then turned to Sammy. "Well, I guess this is goodbye and off to _the Pearl_ for me. Stay out of trouble, Sammy. You too." He winked at Melisende and Sigrun before making his way out of the tavern, before Sammy could say goodbye.

"What's _the Pearl_?" Sammy asked. The messenger tugged at his collar uncomfortably.

"Ugh, that man." Melisende grumbled. She placed a hand on Sammy's back and propelled him forward. "Let's go. The King is waiting."


	18. Chapter 18: ALISTAIR

XVIII. ALISTAIR

He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her. _I'm happy you're still alive_. It seemed like a good choice, but saying that in front of all those parasitic courtiers sitting around him might not be the smartest choice. They already whispered behind his back about his relationship with Anora – or lack thereof. The only thing Alistair wished to do was speak to Melisende alone, as soon as she got there.

He'd hardly touched his food. Usually, he was a little bit of a glutton, but lately, he'd lost his appetite. His sort of uncle, Teagan, watched him closely, no doubt worried about his state of mind. As soon as Teagan looked elsewhere, Alistair responded to this unwavering concern by moving the potatoes around his plate strategically, making it look like he had eaten. The last thing he wanted was for Teagan to lecture him before bed.

Alistair was king, his words should be set in stone with no room for arguments from his subjects, including Teagan, but that was not the kind of king he wanted to be. And so he listened to his advisors, to his petitioners, day in and day out, till his head was ready to explode.

_Maker, how I miss being a Grey Warden…_

He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. _You'd think being king would get me better chairs to sit on_. The nobles he called parasites chattered on, oblivious to his discomfort, to his hidden grief. Anora laughed at a joke by his side and he unconsciously grimaced. In his mind it was a mocking laugh, directed at him. Alistair's patience was running thin – he could hardly wait for Melisende to arrive, to rescue him from this tedious supper and from his uncaring wife.

Alistair shuddered as he called up an image of Melisende in his mind. She was the complete opposite of Anora, dark haired to Anora's golden locks, caring where Anora was cold, and she knew him, loved him for being Alistair, where Anora only loved the crown he'd allowed her to keep. Only a few months ago, he thought he'd lost Melisende. She'd returned from the sea, alive and well. He half expected for Tristan to follow. But that had never happened.

For a while, when he thought both of his friends dead, he'd retreated inside himself, like he had when he'd lost Duncan. Nobody seemed to care how he felt. Nobody seemed to care that Ferelden had lost two of its saviors. They all seemed to have forgotten that if it weren't for those two, Alistair would most likely not have been around, not to mention Ferelden and maybe even Thedas, too. He'd grinned and suffered it in silence. He was, after all, the king, and he supposed it wouldn't do to walk around showing any sort of weakness, even if it were only human to do so.

Then, finding out Melisende was actually alive had eased his pain a little, but still, he felt a stab of pain every time he remembered that his friend, the Hero of Ferelden, was gone. It was almost too much to bear at times. Somehow, he always expected to go first, to his Calling, and not have to deal with the loss of his friends. Melisende's presence would soothe his ache further, he knew, and so he was impatient for her arrival.

He looked to the door of the dining hall longingly. Just when he thought he could wait no longer, an attendant leaned into his ear. "They have arrived."

Alistair nodded, his excitement growing and rising to his face in a slight smile. "Bring them in." He caught Teagan's questioning look toward him as the attendant left to do as he was bid.

Alistair gripped the handle of his chair tightly in anticipation. His heart stammered in his chest, a feeling he didn't grudge at the moment, for he had not had the chance to feel something like this in a long while. A hush came over the room as the attendant passed through the threshold, followed by two strangers – and one very familiar woman.

"The Grey Warden Melisende Cousland, the Grey Warden Sigrun," the attendant announced, motioning with his hand as he spoke the names. He paused for a second, glancing at the boy with a bow and quiver of arrows at his back, unsure of what to say. "And the, uh…"

"Samuel Longshot," the boy announced with a grin. "Or just Sammy."

All around him, the nobles burst into whispers at the scandal – bringing armed warriors and a peasant boy to the dinner table. But Alistair did not care one bit what they thought. He had eyes only for Melisende. He felt his heart skip a beat and for a moment he was again the bashful ex-Templar he'd been when he first met her. She stood tall and straight, her long brown hair braided and tossed in front of her, stray hairs poking out, her mouth rested in a slight smile, her blue eyes dancing in amusement at the scandal around her. She looked a little tired, a little weary, but she was still the same beautiful woman he'd fallen in love with years ago. The feeling washed away as he stood up.

"Welcome," he said. He didn't have to look at Anora to feel the indignation seething from her. For a moment, he pitied his wife for her petty jealousy, for there was nothing anymore between Melisende and him. Then he pushed her out of his mind. He didn't want anything to sour the moment. "Have you eaten?"

"We have," Melisende nodded. "Thank you for the offer though."

Alistair could not find any further words to say. He had waited impatiently for this moment since receiving word that she would be in the city soon. Now that the moment was here, he was speechless.

"We apologize for interrupting." Melisende said, smiling impishly at the parasites at the table. Alistair grinned at her behavior. She was once a noble, but was always loathe to mark herself as one of _these kinds_.

"Don't worry about it. It was over." Alistair shot a look at Bann Teagan, who nodded.

"You heard the king," Teagan shouted. Chairs scraped the floor and the dinner hall was a flurry of reds and purples, the colours currently in fashion, before it emptied. Anora, however, remained seated, her serving ladies standing behind her quietly. Her mouth was drawn tight and her eyes were full of hard emotion, though Alistair couldn't tell what kind.

"Bann Teagan," Melisende tilted her head in the Bann's direction. She inclined her head next to Anora. "Queen Anora. A pleasure to see you both. I trust all is well?"

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Cousland. It has been far too long," Bann Teagan replied, extending his hand to Melisende.

"Please, I am a Grey Warden now." Melisende said accepting Teagan's hand. "I have no titles."

"My apologies then." Bann Teagan replied, letting go. He inclined his head in greeting to Sigrun and Sammy.

Anora stood up then, and after sending a sour look to Alistair, she walked slowly toward the room's exit, pausing just before Melisende. "Melisende. I heard the sad news. I am sorry for your loss. Tristan Amell was a… great man for ending the Blight."

Alistair instinctively tensed. He had thought Anora was going to say something else, for Tristan had been the one to kill her father in a duel. When she hadn't said anything obviously mean, he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He didn't think, however, that Anora was truly being nice. Melisende remained calm.

"Thank you, your grace," she said. "The Wardens… will not be the same without him."

Anora nodded slightly and then continued out of the room. Alistair turned to the two Wardens and boy standing in front of him.

"Sigrun," he offered the dwarven woman his hand. "It's great to finally meet you. I've heard great things about you, like how you led the scouts in the defense of Vigil's Keep."

Sigrun took his hand, her manner strong and confident, as was her shake. "Thanks. It's nice to finally meet you too. I guess I've only heard great things about you."

Alistair smiled and then turned to the boy named Sammy. "Hello, Sammy."

The boy could only stare back at him in what Alistair guessed was wonder. His green eyes opened wide and his mouth was twitching to say something, but nothing came out.

"How odd," Melisende remarked. "Sammy isn't usually this speechless."

Sammy glanced at Melisende with a grin and then returned his gaze to Alistair. The words came all at once in a jumble. "King Alistair, I've heard so much tales about you. Is it true you were training to be a Templar when the Grey Wardens recruited you? And what was it like fighting the archdemon? I've heard the tale from Mel and Tristan, and even Oghren, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Alistair chuckled. Sammy reminded him what it was like to be young and amazed by everything. "I'd not have nearly enough time to answer all your questions, I'm afraid."

"Sammy, Alistair has a lot of things to do." Melisende chastised the boy.

"No, it's alright Mel. If the boy wants to chat, I'll make time for him eventually. Unfortunately that will have to come later. Right now, I'd like to know what the Wardens are doing in Denerim."

"What? You're not happy to see us?" Melisende asked with a grin.

"Of course I am," Alistair said. _More than you know_. "I was just curious, that's all. I still am a Grey Warden." He could almost feel the frown appear on Teagan's face. Arl Aemon and Bann Teagan were always at his throat to focus on being king and forgetting about the Grey Wardens.

"We're here on a recruiting mission." Melisende said. "If you can recommend a few people for the Grey Wardens, that'd be great."

"Might I remind you Alistair, that our own forces are still rebuilding from the losses of the civil war and the Blight." Teagan said.

"I know. Surely we could spare a few good men for this worthy cause."

"As you wish, your grace." Teagan reluctantly bowed to Alistair's wish.

"I can have my guard captain and generals recommend a few people. Though I can't say that they will join you." Alistair sighed. "Like Teagan said, we are hard pressed to fill our own ranks."

"I'd be happy to sign myself up in your service, Al-, your grace." Sammy piped in. Alistair caught the worried look of Melisende at those words.

"Maybe in a few years," he said to the boy, making sure to smile in appreciation. Sammy shrugged his shoulders. The boy could be squired out somewhere if he was inclined to do so. _No doubt he is_, Alistair thought. _So eager for battle, so eager to grow up. He should cherish being a child… being an adult is not nearly as fun. _

"There was an odd thing that happened on our way here." Melisende looked cautiously toward Bann Teagan.

"Teagan, would you mind escorting Sigrun and Sammy to some chambers? I'd like a word alone with an old friend." Alistair said, locking eyes with Melisende. Teagan hesitated for a moment before nodding and gesturing for Sigrun and Sammy to follow out of the room.

…

As soon as they were alone, he went to her and wrapped his arms around her. To his surprise, she gripped him back fervently. The feel of her in his arms felt like a punch to the gut as he realized how much he missed her. They broke free.

"What odd thing happened?" he asked. He could still feel the warmth of her body lingering on his own as he waited for her to respond.

"We were attacked…"

"You were attacked?" he interrupted. He looked her over for any signs of injury. "Are you okay? Who attacked you?"

Melisende rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I would have told you all that if you would have let me finish."

"Sorry," he grinned at her.

"Anyway. We were attacked by a small group of darkspawn, led by another disciple. One of the Mother's followers. They were out for blood – Tristan's blood."

"That's odd. He's… gone. How did you get out of that?"

"It could have ended badly, but Sigrun and I were not alone. There was a man sharing the road with us. And, there was Sammy."

"Melisende, you could have died, _again_?" She was always putting herself in danger, always making him sick with worry, all the way here in Denerim, where he was stuck being King and not able to help her when that's all he wanted to do.

Melisende nodded, guiltily. "I fell asleep during my watch. It was all my fault."

Alistair sighed. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been through a lot lately… I mean, you survived a shipwreck. You… we… lost a friend."

To Alistair's surprise, Melisende's eyes filled with tears. "It's no excuse. I can't do anything right lately."

Alistair closed the distance between them and reached for her hand. He took hold of it and led her to a cushioned bench at the far end of the dining hall. He sat down and pulled her down next to him. Their eyes met and for a moment he could feel her pain, her guilt. His heart pounded uncontrollably. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

"It feels so good to be in your arms again…" Melisende said very quietly. Alistair was stunned to silence. They lingered there on the bench for a few moments, reveling in each other's touch.

"I am so happy that you are here. That you survived…" he told her. "We've lost a great friend in Tristan. And I couldn't have borne it if I had lost you too…"

"Oh, Alistair…" she wiped away at her eyes. "His death has only been assumed, never confirmed. I wouldn't put too much faith in rumours and hearsay. Trust me."

Alistair arched a brow in her direction but she said nothing else. _Trust her? Is she trying to tell me something?_

"There was another survivor at the least." Melisende said.

"Really?" He hadn't heard about any other survivors. Then again, the whole episode was sketchy. Some said it was a shipwreck, some said it was a dragon attack, and still some said a giant squid swallowed the ship whole. If Alistair hadn't been so grieved at the loss of a friend, he might have laughed at the sailors' tales.

Melisende nodded.

"Maybe there is hope after all. It would be something if Tristan showed up out of thin air one day. We could only hope that would happen." Alistair said thoughtfully. It didn't occur to him to question the identity of the other survivor. Instead, he squeezed Melisende's shoulder lightly. "How about we talk of something pleasant? How are things with you and Nathaniel Howe?"

Melisende squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. "I've screwed that up big time. We are not together anymore."

Alistair almost smiled, but for the pain on her face. He always thought it odd that she'd been with Rendon Howe's son, after all that had happened between their families. But who was he to judge? "What happened?" he asked.

"I cheated on him." Melisende admitted.

Alistair was taken aback. He wasn't sure what to say. He wondered who it had been that caused her to betray Nathaniel. Should he ask her? Was that asking too much? But he was so curious. And hurt too, for some reason. It meant she had doubly moved on from him, after all. "Um, I don't want to be rude, but, um…"

"Who?" She always did seem to know what he was thinking.

"Right, who was it?"

Melisende sighed. "It doesn't really matter anymore. I'd rather not say."

Alistair was disappointed, but respected her wish. "So, there's no hope for you two?"

Melisende shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm such an idiot. I've hurt them both."

"You're not an idiot." His mind skipped over the _both_ part. He only wanted to comfort her.

"You're too kind Alistair."

"I'm an idiot, the only one in this room. I could have said no to the marriage, I could have and I should have," he said.

"What?" Melisende held a look of surprise on her face at the sudden turn in conversation, at his sudden and unexpected confession. _Well, I've said too much already, might as well go all the way now._

"We were good together… We had something special."

"This is… too much." Melisende leaned a little away from him, much to his regret, though she remained in his arms. "This happened what seems like so long ago… I was angry at first that you accepted the marriage. But Tristan could see things we were blind to. Sometimes the greater good trumps the personal."

"Still…" It would have been nice to have been only Alistair, and not king. If only…

"No more regrets, Alistair. We can't undo the past, no matter how much we want to," Melisende said. She looked faraway, like she was remembering something. _Remembering us? Or something else?_

"It was only the truth." Alistair said. He brushed away a lock of her long brown hair from her face and stared into her deep blue eyes. "We were young. It was the first time, to be in love, for both of us." _It was the only time for me_.

"Not to mention, the world was crumbling apart around us and we were supposed to fix it. Talk about pressure."

"Right, there was that too." Alistair grinned at the memory.

Melisende sighed. "I miss those times."

Alistair laughed. "So do I." A feeling of sadness washed over him at that moment. "I just wish… I wish things could be different."

"What things?" Melisende asked, twisting her neck to look up at him, her blue eyes opened wide in curiousity.

_I wish I wasn't king. I wish I wasn't married to Anora. I wish we were together still…_ he wanted to say all those things, but couldn't bring himself. They were things which could never happen. His reality had been chosen for him before he was even born, just because he was Maric's son. Ferelden was in his hands, for better or worse. Melisende was right, they couldn't change the past, only shape the future. He shifted to the side, so that he would have to let go of her.

"Alistair?" Melisende asked, concern written all over her face.

"It's nothing." His heart ached. He wanted to lean over and kiss her. To feel her body against his all over again. He could do it, but he knew she had moved on. He would probably only embarrass himself.

"You're lying," she said.

"Well," Alistair shrugged. "Sometimes people lie to protect those they love. They're called noble lies."

Melisende's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Very well, you don't have to say anything. Maker knows I've done the same many times."

Alistair was going to reply to that, but she held up her hand in protest. "You know, I'm not feeling so well anyway. It must have been what I ate. I think I'll just go lay down now, if you don't mind."

"No, do what you must." Alistair stood up and offered her a hand in getting up. She grimaced slightly as she stood up and a hand went quickly to her stomach. "You're not going to need a barf bucket, are you?"

Melisende shook her head, suddenly a little breathless, a grimace of pain overcoming her fine features. "No. I'm fine. I just need some rest."

"Would you like me to escort you to your room?" he asked worriedly.

She waved him off. "I can make it there on my own. Good night."

"Good night," he whispered back, with a heavy heart. He hoped that rest was all she needed. He wasn't reassured as she stumbled out of the room, trying to cover up her pain.

_She'll do what she wants_, he thought. _Melisende was always able to take care of herself. There's no use in coddling her._


	19. Chapter 19: LINA

XIX. LINA

_Home_.

Lina supposed she should be grateful that she had a home, but looking around the hovel, she could only sigh. It was small and having to share it with her four siblings and a smelly brother in law made it cramped, stuffy, even claustrophobic. Her sister Emma's herbs hung from the wooden beams overhead, making her wrinkle her nose in slight disgust, though she had to admit, they didn't smell as bad as Jory. On the other hand, she never got her twin sister's penchant for healing with herbs. She could have just used her magic.

_But then the Templars would come and take her away and then I would truly be stuck in this hellhole. _

"Bloody Andraste, what did I do to deserve these pains?" said Ula, breaking through Lina's thoughts. Ula was the only one of her siblings who did not have a twin, being born in between two sets. Ula clutched at her abdomen with one hand and at the small of her back with the other.

"You should have kept your feet warm. I told you so the other day when you decided to traipse around the market place barefooted." Emma chastised while studying the herbs hanging from the ceiling.

"Don't listen to her, Ula. It is nothing but an old wives' tale." Lina said, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. The chair creaked loudly. _Maker's hell, even the chairs are about to break_. "You get cramps no matter what. It's the curse of being a woman."

"It is not a curse." Emma said sharply, sending a glare of indignation towards Lina. Emma reached for some herbs, cutting them loose from the strings that held them hanging. She placed them on the table, grabbed a mortar and pestle and began grinding up the herbs. "Women have been given a gift – the gift of life."

Lina reluctantly held her tongue. _A gift we need men to plow first_. An unwanted image of Emma and her new husband Jory, naked, in bed, popped into her head. She shuddered involuntarily. _I'd sooner die than lie with that pig. I don't know how you do it sister_. But Emma had, for the good of the family. They'd been not much more than beggars when Jory offered Emma a marriage, and with that a home for all of her siblings, even Lina, though she knew Jory wished her married off soon, to whoever would have her sullied self.

"It doesn't feel like a gift." Ula complained.

Emma poured the ground up herbs into a kettle of boiling water resting over the small fire she always kept going, just in case somebody needed one of her remedies, one of her teas. The fire made it too warm in the hovel. _Might be good in winter_, Lina thought, wiping her brow of sweat, _but not in the heat of summer_.

"Here, drink this." Emma offered Ula a small cup of her brew. "It'll ease the pain."

Ula accepted the proffered cup of tea. She sniffed it warily, her mousey features bunching up at the bitter smell. She blew on the cup to cool it somewhat before she finally took a careful sip. Her face bunched up again. Lina knew the bitter taste of the tea all too well.

"When did you get your first blood anyway?" she asked her little sister.

"A few months ago," came the reply.

"I see." Lina hadn't noticed. Her head was filled with too many fantasies these days. She supposed she'd be chasing away the neighbourhood boys soon enough. Ula didn't have an older brother to do that, so Lina supposed she'd take the task. _And Jory will want her wedded soon enough, too. Probably to one of his slimy merchant friends and the less mouths he has to feed, the happier he'll be. _

Ilka and Liam, the youngest of her siblings and the other set of twins, came barging in at that moment. Behind them came a dwarven woman, helping another woman to walk in. The woman grimaced in pain as she clutched her lower abdomen. A boy followed in. Emma rushed over to them immediately, already in healer mode.

Lina shooed the children away, all except Ula, who rushed by Emma's side to help. The last thing Lina saw before stepping out with the children was her sister laying the woman on a cot.

"Will she be all right?" the boy asked. His mop of blonde hair was tied back and his green eyes were filled with worry. He looked to be about Ilka and Liam's age – thirteen or so years. He reminded her also, of someone dear to her… she pushed his image away quickly.

"She will," Lina replied, though she wasn't all that confident. She couldn't bear to add more hurt to those green eyes. "My sister is a great healer."

"You better not be lying," the boy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Or what?" Lina asked, arching a brow at him. "I've dealt with little boys like you before."

"I'm not a little boy," he insisted.

Ilka was making moon eyes at the boy. _Maker, help me_. "Ilka, Liam, go to the market and tell Jory he should stay away for the night at least." Jory didn't like blood. And if the woman's expression was an indication of what was happening – then there would be a lot of blood.

Ilka rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, after taking a long sweet look at the blonde boy, who was oblivious to her little flirtations. Lina shoved Liam forward too. He shot her a narrowed look before trotting after Ilka.

Lina turned her attention to the boy. "What's your name?" she asked. And then, in case he needed hers first, she said: "I'm Lina."

"Sammy," he replied sullenly.

"The woman, is she your mother?"

Sammy shook his head. "Melisende is a Grey Warden."

_A Grey Warden?_ Lina's interest went over the roof at that simple statement. "And the dwarf woman?"

"Sigrun is a Grey Warden, too." Sammy replied with a hint of disinterest.

_Now this was interesting_. She felt hope bubbling through her body, from the tips of her toes up to the top of her head. Had the Maker finally listened to her prayers? "What are Grey Wardens doing in Denerim?" she asked the boy. _And why is the one named Melisende having a miscarriage?_ Lina didn't think Grey Wardens had children.

"To find recruits." Sammy answered. "But so far they've had no luck."

_Recruits?_ Lina grew excited now. If Melisende weren't in the middle of a miscarriage, she'd run inside the hovel and beg to be recruited. The Maker, had heard her prayers, it seemed. Then she felt guilty, as she glanced at Sammy. Here she was getting hyped up, when a woman was going through an ordeal just a few feet away. And not just any ordeal, but losing a child. Perhaps Lina had seen wrong, perhaps it was something else…

"Is she _really_ going to be all right?" the boy named Sammy interrupted her thoughts. She wondered what he was doing with a couple of Grey Wardens. Surely he was not a recruit? _He does carry a bow_...

"Well?" Sammy pushed.

"Oh, my dear boy, _she_ will be all right, I have no doubt." Lina had faith in her sister's abilities. But there were things she had no control over. "But her child will never be."

Sammy's eyes widened in surprise. "Her child?"

_The poor thing_. He probably didn't even know the woman was with child. "She is having a miscarriage. It is not uncommon this early along. Though, I may be assuming too much here." Lina was certain though, despite her attempts at reassuring the boy. She'd seen these things before, but she never liked to help her twin sister out. Emma was good at fixing things. Lina was good at breaking things.

_It even happened to me…_ she felt the familiar tug at that now empty spot in her heart. She had hidden the pain away for long now, but it still hurt whenever she thought of it. She pushed it back away.

"Oh," Sammy said thoughtfully. "My mother was with child when my father went off to war, but then she wasn't. She was sad all the time after that. She got even worse when father never came home, blaming herself. I think she thought that because she miscarried, he didn't want her anymore. But I knew the truth, I knew why father never came home – it was the darkspawn."

"You poor dear," Lina said as her sister returned, trailed by her brother. "Go play. Clear your mind while you wait."

Sammy stared off at nothing. Lina gave him a nudge in the shoulder and he relented, but not before giving her a sad look. She forgot about her enthusiasm for the Grey Wardens. The boy had just about broken her heart with his tale. _And stirred up feelings in me I never wanted to experience again_.

…

Darkness had crept over the little hovel by the time Lina and the children returned to it. Only Emma's perpetual fire lit the room. A tired looking Ula took Ilka, Liam, and Sammy to the corner, though Sammy wiggled his way away from her sister to rush to the woman named Melisende.

She lay on a cot by the fire, looking pale and frail. Lina would never have guessed she was a Grey Warden at that moment if Sammy hadn't already told her. The dwarf named Sigrun sat by the cot, looking just as tired, her lids drooping, ready to fall asleep.

"Are you okay?" Sammy asked Melisende as he reached her. He took hold of her hand. She looked at the boy sadly and then nodded.

"I'll be fine, Sammy." Melisende croaked, not fooling Lina for one moment, but she held her tongue at bay.

"You were with child?" he asked. _That was not the thing to ask at the moment_, Lina thought as she caught the grimace on Melisende's face. Sigrun stood up and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Sammy, we should let Melisende rest," the dwarf woman said.

"You could stay here if you like." Emma offered.

Sigrun scanned the little hovel before answering. "We'll go to our room at the inn."

Sammy looked to Melisende for confirmation.

"Go. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow." Melisende reassured the boy. He crouched down and grabbed the woman in a hug. The scene was so sad that Lina had to look away for a moment. She heard the shuffling of feet as the boy and the Warden left the hovel. She waited for a while, unsure about whether or not to bring up the subject. _If I am not bold, I will miss my chance. But do I want to appear insensitive? _

Eventually, Lina could stand it no more. The Grey Warden did not seem to be falling into sleep anytime soon – she only stared at the ceiling as the firelight flickered onto her profile. Lina inched her way closer to the cot as quietly as she could. She did not want Emma to stop her. That, however, was too much to ask for.

"Lina," Emma hissed. "Are you so impolite? She is in no fit state to talk. Do you realize what she just went through?"

_You know I do, sister. You were there, with your herbs and your teas, wiping away the blood from my thighs, trying to take away the pain. You've done this many times, but you've never been through it. A woman only wants to forget that she failed at her highest calling_. Lina did not put her thoughts to words, however. The Grey Warden needed a distraction. Emma would never understand, and Lina prayed she never would.

"But she will be gone once morning comes. This is my only chance." Lina desperately wanted to get away from this life. She had taken care of her brother and sisters before and after the Blight. Now that Emma had married and secured their future, there was nothing left for her there.

"I don't care, go away!" Emma stood up, ready to shove Lina away.

"It's fine." Melisende rasped. She sat up, grimacing through the pain. "She's right. I will be gone in the morning."

"My lady, you must recover first." Emma said, resting her hand on Lina's shoulder.

"There is not time. I will be gone in the morning." The Grey Warden gestured to Lina to come forward. "What is it you wanted to ask?"

Lina moved to the seat the dwarf had vacated. "I heard that you were a Grey Warden and that you were recruiting. The boy, Sammy, mentioned you had not much luck in this venture."

"That's right." Melisende nodded.

"Recruit me." Lina didn't have to turn to her sister to know that Emma was wearing surprise on her face – Emma let out a short, quiet gasp.

Melisende arched her brow in surprise or disbelief, Lina couldn't tell. "What are your skills?"

Lina held out her hand. She felt it warm, felt a scorch of heat as a fireball appeared above it. It was Lina's turn to be surprised now, for Melisende had not recoiled in fear at the sight of her magic. It was not something Lina ever showed strangers, for she feared the Templars, but sometimes her brother and sisters, except for Emma of course, would jump back in fright.

"I know much more spells than that of course."

"You've never been under the care of the Circle of Magi?" Melisende asked.

"Our mother was a mage trained in the Circle." Emma butt in, coming closer with a hurt look on her face as she met Lina's eyes, an identical honey brown to her own. They were identical in every way, except for their chosen use of magic, for their hairstyle. Lina's chestnut hair ended at her shoulders while Emma's hung to the middle of her back. It was the only way their mother had been able to tell them apart. That, and the fact that Lina liked to break things and cause general havoc with her magic while gentle Emma focused on healing.

"She trained us in secret, obviously. She was always fearful the Templars would find her… but our own father was a Templar. So we never had to worry much." Lina explained. It would have been quite the scandal if the truth had come out about their parents, about themselves.

"I see…" Melisende closed her eyes, in thought, in pain, in tiredness, or for all of those reasons. "The Circle doesn't usually like it when we take in apostates… but screw them. We need mages."

Lina was speechless for once. She hadn't realized how shaky she had gotten. How much she feared Melisende would refuse her. She was finally going to get out of this place. She met her mirror image and where it should be nothing but smiles, it was only sadness.

_You must let me go, sister. This is the life I want._

Lina turned to thank the Grey Warden, to apologize for troubling her at such a time, but the woman had fallen asleep, exhausted from her ordeal.


	20. Chapter 20: SIGRUN

XX. SIGRUN

They said goodbye to one king only to greet another two weeks later. In between that time things hadn't gone quite as they planned.

_That's the biggest understatement of the year_, Sigrun thought.

First, they had no luck in recruiting anybody into the Grey Wardens. And then there was the incident with Melisende after they left the King's palace. They were in Orzammar now, about to be feasted by a different king, but without Nathaniel and the other Wardens. They were late, much more so than Sigrun and Melisende had been. Sigrun hoped they hadn't offended Bhelen too much, for he was not a man they should anger or take lightly.

But it couldn't have been helped.

Sigrun had inquired several times already if she was well, if she was up for this, and every time, Melisende would smile crookedly and assure Sigrun that she was. That was a lie, Sigrun knew, but she wasn't about to push the matter. She did not want to get into an argument with her fellow Warden, not here, not anywhere, and not anytime soon.

A long stone table rested in the middle of King Bhelen's dining hall. Servants scurried about the room, like a bunch of frantic nugs, setting things up for the feast. The guests mingled about the dimly lit room, awaiting the king, avoiding getting in the way of the servants, less they ruin their fine clothes. Melisende stood beside Sigrun, towering over most in the room, except for a pair of human merchants from the surface. Sammy and Lina had stayed behind in their rented room in the Commons – they hadn't been invited because they weren't Grey Wardens.

One night on their journey to Orzammar, when they were the only two still awake, Sigrun had questioned Melisende's decision to bring the boy and the only recruit along with them to Orzammar. After all, she'd pointed out, it would have been an easy thing to send Sammy to the Keep with Lina for protection.

"Maybe it'll be good for her to see these creatures she will devote her life to before she chains herself to this… marriage." Melisende had said.

"And shortens that life, with one swallow." Sigrun had replied.

"Yes. And Maker forbid we create another runaway Warden." Melisende hadn't mentioned Sammy in that short conversation. Sigrun figured Melisende needed the boy. His presence seemed to lighten her otherwise dark mood. _That_, Sigrun thought, _or she doesn't trust him not to say anything about her miscarriage to Nathaniel_.

Melisende hadn't told Sigrun, Sammy, and Lina not to mention the incident, but they all assumed the woman would rather they didn't. Or, that was at least what Sigrun assumed. Besides, Sigrun didn't think it was any of her business nor was it her place to tell of it. She just hoped Sammy would know that as well.

Sigrun felt for Melisende, she really did, but she also wondered what the woman had been thinking. The life of a Grey Warden was tough enough without having a child to raise. Perhaps, Melisende hadn't been thinking. Sigrun had the tiniest inkling of doubt that Nathaniel knew of Melisende's state to begin with, or that he was even the father. She didn't usually gossip, but she'd heard enough to realize this fact. She hoped Melisende would eventually find peace and maybe it would be better if Nathaniel never knew of this. It would only hurt him further.

Sigrun was interrupted from her thoughts by the sudden appearance of a dwarven woman before her. The woman was dressed in fine clothes, her red hair braided elaborately and gathered on top of her head. She looked familiar to Sigrun.

"Rica?" Sigrun asked in shock. Rica had lived in Dust Town, now it was rumoured that she was King Bhelen's mistress, even giving him a son – Endrin, named after the old king.

"Sigrun; Melisende." Rica nodded a greeting to each of the Wardens. "_Atrast vala_."

"They let Dusters into the Diamond Quarter?" Sigrun asked incredulously. She probably shouldn't have been so blunt, it might come off rude, but Rica only giggled.

"_They_ do." Rica said. Now that the woman mentioned it, Sigrun did notice quite a few non-warrior and non-noble castes at the feast. Usually, merchants, miners and the like, and especially the casteless were not even allowed to step foot into the Diamond Quarter, let alone the royal palace.

In Sigrun's time, Orzammar had been very segregated and traditional under Bhelen's father Endrin. It was a whole different place than what she saw now. The casteless no longer seemed to be confined to begging or nug wrangling in Dust Town. There also seemed to be a lot more surfacers present in the city.

"I meant no offense." Sigrun said.

"And I took none." Rica replied. "It's no secret we've both risen far above the ashes of Dust Town, and you from the Dead. Under Bhelen, the casteless are no longer shunned so much. They've been given the chance to help defend Orzammar. This would not have been possible without the Grey Wardens." Rica turned her gaze to Melisende at the last words.

"Things are well then?" Melisende asked.

Rica hesitated and then lessened the distance between them, lowering her voice as well. "Not everyone is happy with Bhelen's reforms. You'd do well to be wary of anyone from the warrior and noble castes." And then, just like that, Rica backed off. "Enjoy the feast."

"Thank you." Melisende said, inclining her head gratefully toward Rica before the woman trotted off to speak with other guests.

Sigrun exhaled loudly. "Orzammar politics – never a dull moment."

"I'm suddenly wishing I hadn't kept Sammy and Lina by our side." Melisende mused.

"Maybe Rica is just being over dramatic. Most likely there's nothing at all to worry about." Sigrun said, sounding more confident than she felt. All of a sudden, the other guests looked suspect to her. The nobles' eyes and manners resembled those of deepstalkers' – lurking in the shadows, readying themselves to spring out and attack. "Then again, I'd feel a lot better if Nathaniel and the others were here."

Melisende recoiled slightly at the mention of her ex-lover and from the corner of her eye Sigrun caught the involuntary brush of Melisende's hand over her stomach. Nevertheless, Melisende nodded.

"It would be reassuring to have the other Grey Wardens here. I survived this viper's nest once before, but I fear that was all thanks to Tristan." Melisende said with a wistful expression on her face. "I am much too impatient to deal with the intricacies of Orzammar right now. Ferelden's politics look a simple affair next to this, and even so, I would have made a terrible noble up there."

Sigrun chuckled. She'd heard how Tristan had played both opposing factions during the Blight and then at the last moment named Bhelen king, much to everyone's surprise. There had been a lot of suspicion surrounding Bhelen and the death of his older brothers. Sigrun had been serving the Legion of the Dead that time and had been grateful to be away from that mess. _Maybe things had turned out for the better with Bhelen on the throne, at least for the Dusters. With Harrowmont on the throne, who knew what might have happened. _

"When do you think Bhelen will make an appearance?" Melisende asked with a hint of impatience. "The sooner this is over with, the better."

"I don't know what's taking so long." Sigrun shrugged. "Bhelen was never one to dislike a feast. But believe me, I feel the same way." The way the nobles were looking at her was making her very uncomfortable. She almost felt like pilfering something, like the old days. A jewel encrusted goblet stared at her from the table, tempting her, causing her hand to shake. She shoved her hand behind her back. It wouldn't do to revert to old habits now.

The servants continued setting up, placing platters of steaming delicacies on the table. Sigrun's mouth watered at the sight – she'd never had a taste of such rich fares before and if she weren't so anxious, she might actually be excited.

The guests were subdued, whispering or talking in low voices. They looked around warily, noting who was and who wasn't present. A hush overcame the hall as a guard banged a staff on the hard stone floor.

"All hail King Bhelen Aeducan," he announced. The king appeared from a back room, looking haggard, and oddly, considering this was a formal dinner, he was wearing glittering armour more fit for battle than the dinner table. As he made his way to the head of the table, the guests got down on one knee to honour him. Sigrun and Melisende merely bowed politely, though Sigrun's knee shook something fierce, feeling like she _should_ bend the knee to Bhelen. Grey Wardens, however, owed no fealty to any ruler.

"Arise and take your seats!" Bhelen commanded with arms outstretched before sliding onto his grand chair at the head of the table. He pointed at his plate of food and a servant leaned over, took a few pieces and popped them into his mouth. _Testing the food? _Sigrun thought as they took their seats with growing dread squeezing her heart tightly. _Maybe it's not such a good thing to be back in Orzammar after all_.

Melisende had noticed the food tasting too, for she leaned over and whispered into Sigrun's ear. "Poison? Don't dwarves kill with weapons and in the open if there's any killing to be done?"

Sigrun leaned into Melisende's hearing range. "I guess things really have changed if Bhelen fears poisoned food."

"I would like to welcome the Grey Wardens, our honoured guests." Bhelen's booming voice startled Sigrun back to a straight position in her chair. "It seems that all are not present?"

Melisende cleared her throat before responding. "We are honoured and grateful to be your guests. Unfortunately, we do not know what is delaying our commander. No doubt, he will be here, in time."

_She says she wouldn't have made a good noble_, Sigrun mused, _but she would have. She is always smooth and well mannered. She was groomed for these sorts of things_.

Bhelen watched his servant chew and swallow the small portion that he had taken from Bhelen's platter moments before. The servant's hands shook from nervousness and his swallows were forced. For the moment, nobody touched their food, awaiting eagerly the servant's fate. There even seemed to be an air of excitement in the room. Despite the possible danger, Sigrun's stomach rumbled in hunger.

"I heard there is a new commander." Bhelen said, turning his attention back to Sigrun and Melisende. "What happened to Tristan Amell?"

Sigrun tensed. Now that she was in on the secret, she was finding it hard to keep.

"He was lost at sea." Melisende replied. Sigrun noted how she hadn't said _dead_. Maybe just saying _lost at sea_ was an easier lie to tell.

Bhelen grunted. "That's too bad. And why didn't you take over? You were there during the Blight, weren't you?"

"I… I was on my way to the Anderfels with Tristan, on the same ship. I guess he thought it'd be wiser to name someone who stayed behind to take the reins should the worst happen."

"And the worst did happen. He was always a cunning one, that mage." Bhelen shifted his attention back to the servant. It had been sufficient time since the man had tasted the food and so far he was still alive. Sigrun guessed Bhelen was impatient for he looked at his plate of food and commanded the feast to begin. Immediately, the sounds of utensils hitting platters filled the air and the guests began to chatter loudly.

Sigrun happily dug into the delicacies set before her, though for a fleeting moment she was frozen in her actions as she remembered Rica's warning. A servant had tested Bhelen's food, but nobody had tested hers. Just as quickly, all was forgotten as she bit into a choice morsel, giving in to her hunger.

"Lady Melisende, is it not?" Sigrun heard a dwarven man ask through her chewing. The man sat on Melisende's other side.

"I am just Melisende," she replied.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Anto of house Bemot." Sigrun glanced quickly at the man. Bemot was a noble house. Anto had squinty, pale blue eyes, and a well groomed mane and beard of greasy black color.

"It's my pleasure." Melisende replied.

_Always the diplomat_, Sigrun thought. _That's a slime ball if I've ever seen one._

"I must say, I remember your bout in the Provings. What a spectacle of swordsmanship that was! You were like a berserker, but graceful and quick, where a berserker is careless and slow-witted, only hacking at whatever is put before him." Anto said.

"Well, I was not alone, but thank you." Melisende inclined her head in gratitude toward the noble.

"The way you danced around with your swords. It was amazing." Anto gestured with his hands as he talked; an annoying practice in Sigrun's view.

"Is there a reason for all this praise?" Melisende asked. Sigrun would like to know as well. A prickle of unease ran down her back as she caught the sly smile on the noble Anto's face.

"Not at all." Anto said, a little too quickly for Sigrun's liking. "Although… I am sponsoring a few fighters in tomorrow's Provings. It would be a thrill and an immense honour if you'd join me – to give a fighter's opinion on my choices."

"Oh, I don't know…" Melisende began to say. Sigrun hoped she would decline. Something with Anto didn't sit right with her. She nudged Melisende lightly in the arm and ever so slightly shook her head _no_ when Melisende glanced at her. But Anto would not give up.

"I hear you've a boy with you. Perhaps you could bring him as well. If I know boys they're always eager to watch a little sport."

_How does Anto know about Sammy?_

The mention of Sammy seemed to undo Melisende. "I guess there's nothing wrong with a little harmless fun, though Maker knows Sammy doesn't need any more encouragement. We'll be there."

Sigrun sucked in her breath. _That was a mistake. She must not be thinking clearly still_.

"And you, Sigrun?" Anto asked.

_How does he know my name? I've never met this man before in my life._

"Of course." Sigrun answered. Anto gave her an insolent smile under narrowed eyes in return.

_I'm definitely not leaving them alone with you, not if I can help it_.

Sigrun smiled back.


	21. Chapter 21: LINA

XXI. LINA

Was it really morning? It was hard to tell under all that rock, all that earth. Lina took one long lingering look toward the surface before cantering up the steps and pushing open the heavy wooden door.

_Tapster's Tavern – quite the crowd if it truly is morning_.

Lina hovered in the entrance, scanning the room. In front of a glowing hearth a few dwarves played a drinking game, bellowing out a song. Her stomach clenched at the playful singsong.

"Can I help you?" asked a dwarven woman in front of the bar.

"I'm looking for…"

"Melisende?" the woman interrupted. She lifted a hand and pointed to the back of the room. "She's been here all night. Quite the thirst for a surfacer, I'll give her that much."

Lina nodded her thanks and then made her way in Melisende's direction.

_So it is morning_, Lina thought. _A rather full tavern for so early, but the endless nights probably invite carousing at all times of the day. And I've never met a dwarf who didn't like a drink or two every now and then_.

Lina found Melisende hunched in a corner booth, her hands wrapped around a large cup of ale. Melisende did not acknowledge her as Lina slid into the booth across from her.

"Sigrun was worried." Lina said. "You never returned after the feast."

Melisende lifted her head slowly, revealing blood shot eyes. "I hate the deep roads. I hate Orzammar," she slurred out. She lifted the cup to her mouth and sipped.

Lina cautiously looked around, wondering if anyone had heard what Melisende said. It wouldn't do to insult anyone. But the back of the tavern was empty. She focused again on Melisende.

"Sammy was anxious too." Lina said. The boy had been anxious for two reasons – Melisende's absence and the fact that he'd been invited to the Provings. Lina had rarely seen such worry and joy mingle so freely in somebody.

Melisende made no reply; she only narrowed her eyes slightly toward Lina. _Is this what I left my family for? A drunkard?_

No, that was not fair. Melisende was in a fragile state right now. Lina knew from experience. Still, she felt a tinge of loneliness seep into her – she missed her siblings, even smelly Jory, though only a little. Orzammar was not what she had expected.

"Anto has already come by." Lina said.

"Anto?" Melisende repeated, her brows drawn together in confusion.

"Yes, Anto. You were supposed to go to the Provings today. They are waiting for you there already."

Melisende took a big gulp from the cup, slammed it down onto the table when it was empty and began to wave for more. Lina forced her hand back to the table, gently.

"You don't know me," Melisende said, angrily pushing away Lina's hand. "Leave me alone. I command you to leave me alone."

"You're right; I don't know you. But I know what you're going through. And sorry to say, but I am not yet a Warden so I don't have to do as you say."

Melisende glanced at her empty cup. "Did the others show yet?"

"The other Wardens?" Lina shook her head. "No, not yet."

"Then leave me alone, _please_."

Lina hesitated. Sigrun told her to bring Melisende around – there was a suspicion about Anto that Sigrun did not want to face alone. On the other hand, Melisende was clearly drunk, clearly in a poor state of mind. _What would Emma do? _Lina found herself asking.

She studied Melisende, the hunch of her shoulders, the droopy head, the glint of pain in the woman's eyes. Maybe, all she needed to know was that she was not alone. So Lina decided to do the only thing she thought might help – she would share her own story.

"I was in love once. This was before the Blight. I… we were just kids really." Lina began. She didn't know if Melisende would listen, but it was worth a shot. And, she had to admit, she needed to get this off her chest, too. It would be as much a balm to herself as she hoped it would be for Melisende.

"My father got me a job cleaning the chantry in Denerim. Normally, novices do that sort of thing, but I guess he intended for me to pledge my life to Andraste, to the chantry. After all, he had four daughters – that's a lot of dowry. And he was only a Templar. He probably thought I'd be safer there, of all things." Lina paused to glance at Melisende. The woman leaned back in her seat, fingering the handle of her cup, but she watched Lina, glazed though her eyes were.

Lina took a deep breath and then continued. "There was boy – a young man really – who came in to pray often. I thought to myself, he's fine clothed, doesn't look hungry at all, what's he got to be praying for? He came the same time, every day, and never noticed me. But I noticed him. He was the handsomest boy I'd ever seen, with his golden blonde hair and kind, sea green eyes."

Lina closed her eyes. She could almost see him, bending the knee in the chantry in silent prayer. When she opened her eyes, Melisende had leaned closer and was gazing at her curiously.

"Is this story going anywhere?" Melisende asked.

Lina nodded her head. "It is. Let me finish."

"I'm still here…" Melisende said, holding her arms out to emphasize the fact.

"One day, I was dusting the altar and I dropped the whole damned thing onto the floor. It made such a racket, I thought I'd broken it. And the papers on it went flying everywhere. But the Revered Mother never came out of her chambers. Instead, it was the boy, startling me from my panic." Lina shivered as she remembered the way his hands had brushed hers as she gathered the papers. "He helped me get things back in order. I was so embarrassed I wanted to run out of there and never come back. He stared at me funnily and then asked my name. I told him and then I ran, never asking his."

"When I came back the next day, he was there. He wasn't praying though. He was waiting for me. That whole night before I tossed and turned, angry at myself for not asking his name. Well, now I had the chance, all I did was blush under his gaze. And if you know me, I am not one to blush, not one to ever get tongue tied, be he did that to me. He told me his name – Wolfred."

Lina could still recall his smile – so kind, so gentle, and so mischievous all at the same time.

"After that, we spent many an evening together, by the docks mostly. After he prayed, after I finished cleaning. For all his love of prayer, he did love a good bawdy song – and he did like kissing. He was so fun to be around. After a while though, he confessed he was the bastard of a noble."

"Oh?" Melisende raised a brow toward her. "That part sounds familiar."

Lina didn't quite understand the remark, so she continued. "There's more. He told me he'd fallen for me. It had been sweet, young love. But it all went to shit, pardon my language, when I found myself with child."

Lina caught the flinch of Melisende. What she was about to say might undo the woman before her. She couldn't stop now, however. "I didn't know what to do. My father was always away, serving at the Circle Tower or elsewhere, but my mother was watchful. They'd be disappointed in me, I knew. Wolfred wanted to run away with me, make me his wife, a silly dream, really. He may have been a bastard, but he still had noble blood within him. And me, I'm nothing but a commoner. Anyway, it weren't to be. I miscarried."

Melisende's eyelids flickered, but she said nothing.

"I… I was almost happy – that I'd not have to disappoint my parents, that I'd not have to ruin Wolfred's life. But… I was angry too. I'd already seen the baby in my mind – blonde hair, green eyes, like Wolfred, but with my nature. In my grief, I pushed Wolfred away. I unfairly blamed him for what had happened. I refused to ever speak to him again." Lina paused, feeling a stab of pain pierce through her heart at all she'd lost because of her stupidity.

"When I decided I'd been too harsh, it was too late. Wolfred was gone, to find his fortunes in the Free Marches, to get away from the sneering nobles who looked down upon him for being a bastard. And later, I found out that his brother – his father's legitimate son – wanted to kill him all along. That he'd been willing to stay with me…" Lina could say nothing else. It was too much for her. She missed Wolfred so much it hurt, just as much as losing their child had. There was an emptiness inside of her ever since. It was part of the reason she'd wanted to get away from Denerim.

"You told me this… because?" Melisende asked.

"I thought it might help you to know that you are not alone." Lina replied. _It helped me, too. I never had anyone to talk about this with. Emma never understood and I never told mother, Maker rest her soul_.

"You think I'm sad?" Melisende laughed, forcefully it sounded. "I am relieved. It would have been an awful life. I would have been a terrible mother. Can you imagine me, a Grey Warden, a mother?"

"You said it right when you said I don't really know you. But from what I've seen, from what I've heard, you would have made a wonderful mother."

Melisende sighed and looked away.

"Maybe you are relieved. It's all right to be sad, too. That empty hole in your heart will never go away, but it will become more bearable in time."

"Bah, what do you know of my heart?" Melisende brushed her away. She couldn't hide it though, her eyes were tearing up. Lina reached over and patted her hand gently, the way that her sister Emma had done for her. It was enough to bring the woman to uncontrollable tears. Melisende remained silent, though, letting the tears roll down her flushed cheeks.

"I should," Melisende said after a moment, wiping her face of the dampness, and lugging herself out of the booth. "I should go the Provings. I don't want to disappoint Sammy and Sigrun."

"Do you want me to come?" Lina asked, worriedly looking over the state of Melisende. She seemed to have sobered up somewhat, but if Anto was up to no good, Sigrun couldn't handle him on her own, could she?

Melisende shook her head as Lina stood up. "No. Wait around the Commons, in case the other Wardens show up. You can tell them where we are."

"All right." Lina agreed. She had to admit, she was a little relieved that she didn't have to go to the Provings. After opening up like that, inviting the past back into her life for those few moments, all she wanted to do was curl up in bed. But hanging around the Commons was just as good – she could be alone at least.

Melisende turned away. She faltered a moment, not moving forward, just standing there. Then she turned back to Lina. "Thank you," she whispered before finally making her way out of Tapster's.

Lina was glad that she had gotten Melisende to go where Sigrun needed her, but she couldn't help but shudder at the way Melisende walked – slow, heavy, and weary steps.


	22. Chapter 22: SAMMY

XXII. SAMMY

The clang of steel biting steel, the small scraps of trash talk that filtered though the cheers and jeers of the vigorous crowd, the struggle of the battle in the stone pit below him – it was beautiful. It was enough to make him forget all that happened. So entranced was Sammy by the spectacle before him that he never noticed that Sigrun had never found her seat, that Melisende had yet to even show. Neither did he notice the impatient look on Anto Bemot's face.

The crowd erupted into cheers, stomping their feet excitedly as the Silent Sister seemed to gain the upper hand on her opponent – a younger son of the warrior caste. The vibrations ripped through Sammy's body, making his blood run wild. He knew he opened his mouth and yelled alongside the others in the crowd, but it was so loud that he didn't know what words he produced.

The warrior was forced to fight without a shield now. The Silent Sister's blows pressed him back into a defensive position, back into the high walls of the stone arena. Sammy felt each strike reverberate through his body, each strain of the warrior's muscles as he blocked blow after blow. He felt the panic of the warrior, backed into a corner now, in the tightness of his throat. He'd been rooting for the warrior to win. Now, he couldn't bear to watch as the Silent Sister released her fury on the warrior, her blades striking so fast that they left a trail of silver streamers in the wake of their paths, like the wings of a hummingbird did. Sammy didn't want to watch, but perched at the edge of his seat, he couldn't look away either. He'd rooted for the warrior from the start, he'd not abandon him now, even if it seemed like the rest of the crowd had all turned against him.

The warrior emitted one great bellow as he blocked the Silent Sister's furious swings, pushing her back, moving away from the corner. Sammy held his breath. Would the tides of battle turn? Would the warrior make a comeback? He felt like biting his nails in his excitement, in nervous anticipation of a miraculous, euphoric ending. But, no, it was only a last ditch effort, resulting in a nobler defeat than the warrior would have known had he cowered against the stone wall. The Silent Sister knocked away the warrior's sword – the warrior fell to his knees in defeat. The crowd erupted into cheers. Sammy finally let out his breath.

"The winner is Lady Nashal of the Silent Sisters!" the crier announced from his high perch, a blazing fire of light on both his sides.

Anto Bemot squirmed in his seat, rotating the many rings on his pudgy fingers. Sammy snapped back to reality at the gesture.

"Where is Sigrun?" he asked the dwarf, pushing away his disappointment that the warrior had lost with a brush of his hand through his hair. Sammy once again became aware of his unease at being left alone with this man.

"Catching up with her old friend, no doubt." Anto replied drily, a frown creasing his forehead.

When they had arrived at the Provings, somebody had come up to Sigrun, distracting her, accosting her even. Sammy didn't think that had been an old friend. But he was pulled forward rather tightly by Anto and he'd not been able to see anything else of Sigrun after that. Then, he'd gotten distracted by the fights, much to his dismay. He'd promised Sigrun that he'd be wary around Anto; for some reason, she mistrusted the dwarf. Sammy got the same feeling in the pit of his stomach once he was alone with Anto.

"She's missed almost the whole Provings now." Sammy said. There was only one more battle before the afternoon break.

"So has the Lady Melisende." Anto said with a sulky frown.

Sammy was about to open his mouth to reply when he felt a hand grip his shoulder gently.

"I'm here now." Melisende said as Sammy tilted his head upwards to see whose hand lay on his shoulder. "My apologies, my deepest apologies Anto."

She took a seat between Anto and Sammy. Anto inclined his head in greeting, but Sammy couldn't help but feel a prickle of unease at the crooked smile that overcame the dwarf's face. _Sigrun is right, that dwarf is trouble_.

"Almost too late for… the final match. What a shame that would have been had you missed it." Anto said.

"I was delayed. Again, I am sorry. But I thank you for entertaining Sammy in my absence."

"The Provings provided more entertainment for the boy than I ever could hope to." Anto replied, glancing at Sammy with his beady eyes. Sammy narrowed his eyes at the dwarf, mistrustful of his intentions. _Does Melisende not see the truth before her, or is she just being polite?_

Melisende glanced at Sammy in turn and nudged him in the shoulder. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked, grinning widely.

Sammy could smell the ale on her breath. _So, she was at the tavern all night_, he thought. She might be drunk still, but he was relieved she was finally there. Anto was thoroughly creeping him out now. He nodded in response to her question, aware of the dwarf's eyes on him. _I need to tell her about Sigrun…_

"The next fight involves one of the fighters that I personally sponsor. If you'd like," Anto leaned over closer to Melisende, "I could bring you down for a brief visit before the start of the match." Anto caressed his long beard. Sammy didn't like the sound of that, didn't like the look of the dwarf's face, or the way the dwarf's fingers stroked his beard. It was unsettling. It was obscene.

_And I really should let Mel know about Sigrun. Something is definitely not right here._

But he never got the chance. Melisende stood up, pulled him up as well, and turning to Anto, said; "That sounds like fun. Let's go."

…

The Provings pits were crowded, until Anto led them into a deep tunnel, muttering something about how his fighter liked to train in the dark. Sammy would have laughed at the ridiculous notion were he not so anxious. The tunnel didn't look right to him. It was natural, just rock, and dimly lit, whereas the rest of the Provings tunnels were polished stone, architectural wonders carved by the dwarves themselves. It looked like a never ending tunnel. Melisende halted their progress abruptly.

"Where is this fighter of yours? I highly doubt he trains in the dark," she asked. "If you've led us…"

Then faintly, they heard the roar of the crowd above them, the booming voice of the announcers. "This is a Proving, fought under the eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar…"

"Into a trap?" Anto smiled wickedly.

Melisende reached for the swords at her back, unsheathing them in one fluid movement, holding them in front of her, pointing them threateningly towards Anto. She swayed unsteadily as a dozen armed dwarves appeared from the darkness behind Anto. Sammy drew the rusty old dagger from his belt and clutched it tightly in his hand. It comforted him… somewhat.

"You should have heeded the king's whore. Nobody will hear your cries for help." Anto sneered. _He is right_, Sammy thought in panic, _everyone is watching the match, yelling and screaming._ He wished the other Wardens were there, even wished for Leandro. They were outnumbered, far too outnumbered. And he knew Melisende would not let him fight if it came to that. She'd take them all on alone. He clutched the dagger tighter, his nails dug into his palms painfully. He would not let that happen.

"You bastard…" Melisende said. She gently and protectively pushed Sammy behind her. Sammy heard her suck in her breath as they both noticed that they were completely surrounded.

Anto laughed at their panic. "You can try and fight if you like. But then, the boy will likely die. If you put down your blades and come willingly, he will live." Anto explained with a smug grin. Sammy briefly thought of running at the dwarf, barreling him over, and stabbing him. He wished he were braver, he'd do it. But he wasn't stupid and that was better than bravery for the moment. He waited for Melisende to do something, anything.

"What do you want with me?" Melisende asked, hesitation in her voice as she lowered her swords slightly. "Whatever it is, do not harm the boy. Sammy is innocent."

"What is it that keeps the world going, keeps the wheel turning in an endless cycle?" Anto said reflectively. The smile had fled his face to be replaced by a cruel glint, a tightly drawn mouth. "I want what everyone wants; justice, _revenge_. It's what it always comes down to, in the end."

Sammy fell forward, the dagger dropped from his hand, sliding far away from his reach, and everything went black.

_They hit me!_


	23. Chapter 23: NATHANIEL

XXIII. NATHANIEL

His arms ached to do battle, to pull back the bowstring, bend the bow to his will, and fire an arrow where he wished – preferably in the skull of a darkspawn. He'd get to do that soon enough. No doubt the dwarves would gladly tell him of a darkspawn hideout or two and his wish would come true. Nathaniel sighed. If only he could get to Orzammar sooner.

He wrapped his cloak around him a little tighter. They were close to the entrance to Orzammar, deep in the Frostback Mountains. Even though it was summer everywhere else in Ferelden, here the air was chill, his breath tumbling out in front of him in a white steam. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't much excited at the prospect of being feasted by King Bhelen. Such events never sparked any interest in him at all. With any luck, he had missed the whole shindig and Melisende had taken care of it already.

He let out a rolling breath, watching the steam rise from his mouth. _You are commander now, such things are expected of you._ And it wouldn't, he admitted, be good for him to get on the dwarven king's bad side. The Grey Wardens needed the dwarves, who battled the darkspawn on a daily basis. It was unfair of him to leave it to Melisende, even if she knew Orzammar and its politics better than he did.

Nathaniel's heart ached at the thought of her. An ache of hurt and longing all at once. He didn't understand himself, how could he still feel this way about her, after what she had done to him? She was never far from his mind, as hard as he tried to forget her.

The sky above was clear, night was rolling in. The stars lit up the sky and he thought of the night she had confessed to him what she had done. He'd never looked at a beautiful night sky in the same way since then. Abruptly, he called for a stop. Without looking behind, he could tell that the others, Madoc and Velanna, were relieved. Nathaniel had marched them hard, as they'd been delayed in leaving the Keep. He heard the sound of a pack hitting the ground, a sigh of relief from Madoc.

Oghren had stayed behind, not wishing to return to his home. Nathaniel wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling it might have had something to do with Branka, his onetime wife and dwarven paragon, dead because of her obsession with golems. Oghren had left Orzammar in a sort of shame and so Nathaniel hadn't pressed the matter. Besides, he needed a Warden at Vigil's Keep at all times. Seneschal Varel was a great housekeeper, but the presence of a Warden would do much to reassure the people, even if it was the dwarven drunkard.

He wandered off among the tall pines to be alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he wished he could be like Oghren, and drink all his problems away. But what a hypocrite he would be. He had given Melisende grief for her own drunken antics when they'd first been at the Keep together. He always chided his brother Thomas for the same reason, too. Even so, he still sometimes wished he could do that. Wouldn't it be nice, to forget, just for a little while?

To top it all off, Sammy had run away. Nathaniel had been worried sick until a message came from Denerim. Sammy was safe, with Melisende. A part of Nathaniel had been jealous, jealous that the boy had run to her instead of staying with him. It was after all, her fault for all the tension at the Keep. Then he'd realized he was being silly. Even if the boy knew the truth, his urge for adventure was much stronger than his loyalty to any one of them. That had been apparent enough these last few months. It hadn't been fair, anyway, to expect him to side with one over the other, to put him in the middle of their problems. It wasn't fair to any at the Keep.

Nathaniel reached in his pocket, feeling for the ring. He pulled it out, studied it carefully in the growing darkness. _Things could've been different. This could be on her finger right now._ The sound of soft footsteps echoed through to his mind. He didn't have to turn around to know it was her.

Velanna had kept her distance since he'd sent Melisende off to Denerim, much to his surprise. He had thought her offer of friendship would be nothing but trouble. He was wrong though. _Perhaps_, he thought, _she wanted to give him the time to figure out his heart_. He wasn't sure what Velanna wanted from him exactly, but he knew there was something there, hovering between friendship and something more. He didn't quite know how he felt about that either.

"I was going to ask her to be my wife," he said, turning the ring over in his fingers.

"Is there a reason you kept it?" she asked, appearing before him and leaning on her wooden staff.

"What?" he asked, still wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Velanna motioned towards his hands. She shortened the distance between them and reached for his hand that fingered the ring. She held it palm up, gazing at the ring.

"For all I never got along with the woman, she did bring out the best in you." Velanna admitted.

"The best in me…" Nathaniel repeated. The woman spoke the truth. He'd never been happier than when he was with Melisende. He supposed it must have shown. "Then what am I now, without her?"

Velanna lifted her left shoulder. "You are you, still."

Nathaniel frowned. "I see. The legendary Dalish wisdom is strong in you."

Velanna tilted her head away and stared through the trees with a sorrowful look. "My sister Seranni was the smart one. You would never know that when we were children though. She used to put sap in my hair. Oh, was it a pain to clean. She pushed me into an icy river, twice, too. For all she drove me crazy, I loved her. She brought out the best in me." Velanna paused, using her staff to dig through the dirt at their feet. "I see her in the shadows sometimes. I wonder where she is. If she is still alive."

Nathaniel remembered Seranni. She had helped them escape the Architect's laboratory. Then, she had helped sway Tristan to the Architect's side. Now, they were both gone, nowhere to be seen. They still didn't know if it had been the right thing to let the Architect go. Nathaniel got the feeling that Velanna wanted nothing more than to find out. "You're not planning on leaving the Wardens, are you?"

Velanna considered her words. "Perhaps, one day, my curiousity will get the better of me."

"Then let it be a long time from now. The Grey Wardens – I – have a great need of you."

Velanna's brows rose in surprise. "You?"

"You told me that I have become a friend to you." Nathaniel grinned. "I neglected to return the sentiment. You are a friend to me as well."

Velanna smiled, so rare, Nathaniel thought that he'd only seen it once before when they met Seranni in the Deep Roads. It was crooked and queer, but somehow endearing. He should really try to get her to smile more often; it was much preferable to her perpetual frown or looks of indignation.

"You haven't answered my question – is there a reason you kept the ring?" Velanna said suddenly.

"Perhaps…" Nathaniel let out a long shuddering breath. "Perhaps there is a small part of me that wishes it still to be."

"Even after all she did?" Velanna asked, shifting her staff to her other hand. "Once a traitor, always a traitor."

"It's not as simple as that." Nathaniel wished with all his heart that it were that simple. He wished he could share Velanna's view, but there was so much more to consider.

"Who was the other man?" Velanna asked.

"I don't know." Nathaniel admitted. It wouldn't make sense to lie to Velanna. She would pester him to no end.

"Interesting." Velanna said. She watched him with interest, perhaps expecting him to say more on the matter.

Nathaniel shrugged. "She wouldn't tell me. It doesn't matter anyway."

"I can find out."

Nathaniel hesitated. Velanna probably could find out. Maybe, however, there was a part of him that did not want to know who _he_ was, who stole his life. "And what would that accomplish? It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore…"

"Your honour." Velanna said stiffly.

"What of it?"

"It has been shamed. Any man would take vengeance."

What was she trying to do? Goad him into doing something stupid? "Again with the vengeance?" Nathaniel asked, annoyed now. "Velanna, I am not any man. It would do my honour no good to go out and punish the whoreson."

"No?" Velanna asked, a smile of amusement on her face.

"No. Melisende is not bound to me by any laws. She made her choice. Because I don't like it, I should act like a sulky child, a sore loser? No. I think not. I admit, that is what I wanted to do at first, but not anymore. I wash my hands of this betrayal. I want to move on."

"That is the most I've ever heard you say."

"It is the truth."

"So you say."

Nathaniel let out a sigh of frustration.

"By move on, do you mean to forgive her," Velanna continued, "to rush back into her arms?"

"I don't know."

"You just said a part of you still wants her."

"So?"

"Do you want her back or do you want to move on? Which is it?"

"Maker, woman, stop pestering me."

"I'm only trying to help, as a friend would."

Nathaniel closed his eyes, trying to soothe his frustration. "But you've only confused me further…"

"Would this help?"

When Nathaniel opened his eyes, Velanna was leaning close to him. So close. Her lips so near to his own, so teasingly wavering in front of him, he could feel her warm breath, almost taste the mint leaves she had been chewing earlier. _I am but a man_… He moved in closer – and she backed away.

"I've been unfair," she said.

Nathaniel turned away, digging his nails into his palms and uttering a curse under his breath. "You're being cruel."

"There is something I must say."

"There is always something with you. Spit it out." Nathaniel said, his frustration barely restrained now.

"I could never understand you. The Grey Wardens murdered your father and yet, you never took vengeance. You became one, even. You were in love with the slayer of your kin. And now you won't take vengeance again. Again you back down."

"For Andraste's sake." Nathaniel muttered. _Why can't she just give up on this vengeance thing? Why can't she just let it go? It is none of her concern._ "I intended to do as you said – take vengeance. It was rage speaking, not reason. Once I could think, I saw the truth of it. My father was not murdered in cold blood. Yes, revenge was part of it, no doubt, he slaughtered her family, but he threatened her and the Wardens. He threatened their lives. He'd gone mad."

Velanna bunched her lips into a frown. "Self defense and insanity?"

Nathaniel averted his eyes. "It took me a while to let go of that anger. Don't bring it back." Nathaniel said quietly. "Vengeance is not always right and it is not always worth it."

Velanna stood quiet for a moment, a small mercy he supposed, though she stared away again, losing herself to her thoughts. "A lesson I was too stupid to learn…" she said finally. "For all I urge you to vengeance, I shouldn't be the one to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"The reason I left my clan…"

Nathaniel watched her intently, but she made no move to say more. "You were exiled, I thought."

She turned to him then, pain in her eyes. "Yes, for vengeance. You are right to say it is not always worth it… I was supposed to be my clan's Keeper. I guess I thought that meant I was entitled to give orders. Some months before I came to the Wardens, some humans tried to burn my clan out of our homes. I preached revenge, against my Keeper's wishes. I opened my mouth, my big mouth, and called her a coward." Velanna paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "She exiled me and I took with me a few who supported me, including my sister. Then, the darkspawn attacked us and killed them all, took Seranni away. Seranni only followed me to try to get me to see reason. I told you she was the smart one. You and she both saw reason, yet I cannot ever see it. It is my fault they are dead, that my clan is without a Keeper now that Ilshae is dead. It should have been me, but for my big mouth."

"You've held this guilt all these years?" Nathaniel placed a hand on her arm unawares.

"I don't deserve to be forgiven. I can never go back to my clan… but I can and one day will find Seranni…" Her green eyes were filled with sadness and just like that, they turned defiant at the mention of finding her sister.

"The darkspawn killed your friends, not you…"

"But if I had never opened my mouth against Ilshae…"

Nathaniel would not hear of it anymore. "If I had never gone to the Free Marches, could I have prevented my father's massacre of Cousland castle?"

Velanna glanced at him in surprise.

"Velanna, it is pointless and futile to dwell on what ifs."

"Then you shouldn't either," she replied, darting her eyes towards the hand that held the ring still. She meant for him to stop thinking of that… but it was still too fresh a wound to put away in the dark recesses of his mind.

"We…" he felt a sudden quashing feeling in his chest, like something was very wrong. It was gone as quickly as it had washed over him. Velanna regarded him as if nothing had happened. He looked toward the fire Madoc had started and where the newest Grey Warden was fast asleep. He squeezed the ring in his hand. "We should go, _now_."


	24. Chapter 24: MELISENDE

XXIV. MELISENDE

_Stupid, stupid Melisende_.

She'd been awake for a while now. She couldn't tell how long, though, for the darkness surrounded her, stifled her. Her eyes opened, her eyes closed, it didn't matter – there was nothing but black to see. And it was cold, so cold. If she weren't in so much pain, she might go mad in her panic.

_I hate the deep roads_, she repeated in her head, her throbbing head. _I hate the underground_. She remembered when Ronan had taken her hand in reassurance when they'd been underground together. A groan escaped from between her lips and the pain became too much to bear.

She hurt everywhere. Anto's cronies had thrown her into this dank old cell. Where that cell was she had no idea. They cuffed shackles around her wrists, spat into her face. _Why?_ They'd not answered her – in words anyway. One dwarf had punched her in the face. She thought that would be it when Anto raised his arm, but he had come forward and kicked her, hard, repeatedly, unendingly it had seemed at the time.

She probably had a black eye. She probably had a cracked rib. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. She hurt in other places, too. Her wrists chafed under the shackles. Her old shoulder wound throbbed horribly, the old wound in her side combined with the new one to form an unfathomable pain. And worst of all, the dull ache in her womb, the twisting of her heart.

When Anto had his fill of tormenting her, they'd taken the light away with them. She hadn't minded then, for she had fallen into a fitful, dreamless sleep almost immediately. But now, she wished they had left the torch. She supposed that would have been too much to ask for. She could feel the panic creeping into her, threatening to consume her.

Then, a memory of Nathaniel illuminated the dark. He crouched before her, gazing at her with his grey eyes. _You have to calm down_, he said before the apparition disappeared back into the pitch black.

She leaned her body back slightly. She felt the cold stone at her back. She concentrated on breathing and nothing else. The motion steadied. Soon enough, her panic had subsided, and though it still hurt to do so, she thought.

_Why does Anto want revenge on me?_ She couldn't fathom any reason. She hadn't done anything to House Bemot, nothing that she could remember. Certainly, nothing that could warrant treatment like this.

Her thoughts turned to Sammy. Where was he? Did they hurt him? She'd been so stupid. She never should have brought him to Orzammar. But she'd been selfish. He'd been, was, a balm to her pain. Seeing him helped her forget all that she'd lost. He was all she had left. And now, his life was in the hands of a lunatic.

_Stupid, stupid Melisende_.

She hadn't made so many mistakes before in her life. Or, at the very least, it had been a long time since she had. At the most, she hadn't been herself. First, she fell asleep on watch duty. Then she accepted the invitation from the slime ball Anto, even though Sigrun was against it. And worst of all, she'd drunk herself into a state of idiocy. She thought she was over that type of behavior.

_Stupid, stupid Melisende._

If she hadn't been sloshed, she would've seen right through Anto. She probably could have even fought him off. She shifted slightly in her frustration and a stab of pain ran right through her body. She let out a moan.

_It seems like I've spent my whole life pondering conjectures. Instead of doing that, I should figure out what went wrong and how to get out of here._

But the pain – it would not go away. The physical pain. The emotional pain. The guilt hung so heavily around her shoulders that it almost warmed her from the cold like a heavy cloak – instead, it burned her to the very core until there was nothing left inside of her. It choked her, too.

_I wish you were here_, she thought. Two images flashed before her lids – _Nathaniel Howe. Ronan_.

If her hands had been free, they would have rested on her stomach, empty and barren, like it always should have been. Instead, a single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek, over the edge of her lips, before dripping onto her breast, seeping into her heart.

_I can't bear this alone_.

_Stupid, stupid Melisende_.


	25. Chapter 25: NATHANIEL

XXV. NATHANIEL

Bhelen sat on his throne, tapping his fingers on the arm rests, listening to the petitioners before him. Nathaniel could barely restrain himself from walking over to the little group and pushing them all out of the way. They'd been waiting long enough now for an audience with the dwarven king. Nathaniel guessed Bhelen was punishing him for arriving late.

There'd been no sign of the other Wardens, though he knew from the dwarfs guarding the entrance to Orzammar that they had passed through three nights ago – with a boy. _Sammy is in Orzammar, in danger_. Nathaniel knew something was wrong. Knew it the moment his heart had twisted in his chest in the mountains.

Finally, the petitioners finished their business and took their leave. Vartag Gavorn nodded in Nathaniel's direction. With a small sigh of relief, Nathaniel made his way forward, Velanna and Madoc following closely on his heels. Bhelen frowned hard as they halted in front of his throne.

"You're late." Bhelen said, gripping the arm rest so hard, Nathaniel could see the whites of his knuckles. "You missed the feast I provided."

Nathaniel tried to remain calm. He wanted answers, he wanted reassurances, but he did not want to anger the king. He inclined his head apologetically. "You have my deepest apologies, King Bhelen. It was not my intention to disappoint you."

Bhelen scrutinized Nathaniel closely. Nathaniel resolved not to flinch under the king's gaze. After an uncomfortable minute of silence, Bhelen shifted in his seat. "What is your purpose here? The feast is over after all."

_Do not reach for your bow_, Nathaniel warned himself as his hand flexed. "Where are my Wardens?" he asked the king.

Bhelen shifted again on his throne. "Unfortunately, they met with a slight misfortune while in the city."

"A slight misfortune?" Nathaniel repeated. "I ask you again, where are they?"

Bhelen motioned at his guards to open a door. Sigrun came barreling through, an angry scowl on her face. A woman Nathaniel did not know followed through the threshold.

"Nathaniel," Sigrun said in surprise, stopping before him. "They have taken Melisende and Sammy."

Nathaniel felt the blow of those words on his gut. "Who is _they_? What has happened here?" and then he turned to Bhelen. "Why didn't you tell me this at once?"

Bhelen shrugged. "I don't have all the details. I am a busy man."

Nathaniel nearly reached for his bow this time, but a hand pulled him back. It was Velanna, who shook her head in warning.

"Sigrun has more to tell us." Velanna said.

Nathaniel turned to Sigrun.

"We were invited to the Provings by Anto Bemot, a noble. Melisende accepted, but she was… late in arriving. Anyway, Sammy and I went on ahead. I never got to the matches. Somebody accosted me, knocked me over the head and left me passed out in a storage room. I missed the whole sodding thing. And it was on purpose. Lina here," Sigrun gestured toward the strange woman, "was not at the games. She was looking out for your arrival."

"When none of them came back, I went to the Provings to find them, and only found Sigrun." Lina said.

"We questioned many people, but nobody had seen Melisende or Sammy since before the final match. And nobody had seen Anto either." Sigrun explained.

Nathaniel felt his blood boil. "Then how do you know they've been taken?"

Here, Bhelen produced a scrap of paper and waved it in the air. "This was sent to me."

"To you?" Nathaniel asked as Bhelen handed the note to Vartag Gavorn, who then handed it to Nathaniel.

"_If you want the Warden returned, then you better pay up. I want all that was lost to me when the Grey Wardens put you on the throne and when you killed Harrowmont. If not,_" Nathaniel paused briefly, reading the last part to himself before saying it out loud."_I'll send you her pretty head_."

"I knew Anto was up to something." Sigrun said with clear frustration.

Nathaniel turned angrily on Bhelen. "If anything happens to them…"

"The man is nothing, a fly on a nug's ass." Bhelen said with a flick of his fingers.

"You say that, but _we_ don't have coin enough to ransom her back. And what about Sammy? What have they done with him?" Nathaniel asked.

Bhelen laughed. _He laughs!_ "For all the man preaches to have lost everything because of me, if Harrowmont was on the throne in my place, he and everyone else around here would still be paupers. I opened up Orzammar to trade. Anto is just mad that he is too stupid to make his own fortune."

"Then why is he taking this out on us and not you?" Nathaniel asked angrily.

Bhelen shrugged again. "The man's a raving lunatic?" Bhelen stroked his beard in thought and then leaned forward on his throne. "But you have a point. I've faced many assassination attempts since I came onto the throne. This is the first time a plot is not aimed at me. The Wardens put me on the throne… though it was from the mouth a paragon." Bhelen smiled slyly. "If Anto couldn't get me before, maybe he thought the Wardens would be easier to take revenge on."

"Where is this man's hideout? We will fight our way through this noble." Nathaniel could not stand around and do nothing anymore. Melisende and Sammy's lives were in danger. He couldn't help but feel responsible. If he would have come to the feast on time, this could have all been prevented.

"That might not be a good idea." Sigrun piped in.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Word on the street in Dust Town is that Anto has resurrected the survivors of the old carta – Jarvia's cronies. Tristan and Melisende decimated the carta during the Blight, but some got away." Sigrun explained.

"Thugs do not frighten me." Nathaniel said with impatience.

Sigrun crossed her arms in frustration. "Clearly you know nothing about the carta. You're still thinking like a noble know it all."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes in Sigrun's direction. Her insinuation hurt more than he cared to admit. "Clearly you're still cowering in fear like the casteless vermin you used to be."

Sigrun's eyes opened wide in surprise – and hurt. _Maker's ass, I didn't mean that_. He hadn't meant to lash out at Sigrun. "Sigrun, I…"

She turned away from him. _That was something father would say, _he thought with revulsion. He didn't want to be like that man. He tried to bury these kinds of thoughts before, but somehow they still came out.

Bhelen cleared his throat.

_Great, I've embarrassed the order in front of the dwarven king_, Nathaniel thought in shame.

"I will give you the ransom… but I want it back." Bhelen said.

_That is only fair_, Nathaniel thought, _Anto did send the note to you_. Still, Nathaniel felt slightly uneasy that Bhelen wanted the ransom returned. "So you want us to lie our way to their base, and dishonor ourselves through treachery?"

"They fooled Sigrun, they fooled Melisende." Velanna said behind him.

"The elf is right; forget about honour, the noble has none. He invited her to the Provings, at my feast, and then turned on her, right at the day's main event too. Let your scruples go, topsider, this man is better off dead, and all his carta wannabes with him. Orzammar will be a better place without them all." Bhelen smiled slyly again.

Nathaniel felt like he was doing the king's dirty work. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll need a map." And he needed to get Melisende and Sammy out of this mess.

"You'll need a bronto to carry the ransom, too. And please, don't let that creature die; I won't be happy if my pet comes back in pieces." Bhelen said with a hint of warning in his gruff voice.

Nathaniel shuddered inwardly. No, the king was not a man to mess with, that was plain to see. He was glad he was not part of his own noble circle anymore. The vicious backstabbing and political maneuverings were more than he could take. He would take Bhelen's help, even if it pained him. He needed to get Melisende and Sammy returned, safely.

_Sammy is like my own flesh and blood. And Melisende…_ he felt the familiar pain in his heart. _I cannot live without her._


	26. Chapter 26: SAMMY

XXVI. SAMMY

The cage was filthy. The straw was damp and smelled like piss and shit. It was high enough that he could stand up in it and he wasn't tied up. Sammy supposed he should be grateful for that, but nobody would tell him anything. They only told him to shut his trap every time he did try to speak. So he did as they said, for now.

_The moment someone comes into the cage…_ And then he remembered he had dropped his dagger. If only he would have hidden another one in his boot. But he only had one anyway.

An old blanket covered the cage, so he couldn't see around him. But he heard voices drifting from upwards every now and again. Dwarves and Anto mostly, and sometimes a woman. Most scary of all were the grunts and scratches coming from the cage right next to his own. Sometimes the cage rattled violently, like the occupant was trying very hard to escape. It was some sort of creature. The angry noises it made kept Sammy from sleeping.

So did the dull throb in the back of his head, where the treacherous dwarves had hit him. He felt it now; it was bleeding slightly when he first woke up. Now it had scabbed over. He promised to pay back in kind the dwarves who did this to him as soon as he got free. Most especially Anto.

_If I ever get free_…

He thought of Melisende. Where was she? Was she still alive? Why did the dwarves want her? If they did anything to her he would see their blood run, he promised them that silently.

Sammy had longed for adventure for so long that it almost hurt. Now that it had actually come, he wasn't so sure he was ready. He hated to admit it, but he was even a little scared. The darkspawn attack had been different, he hadn't been alone. Now he was. Not to mention his captors were _people_. For all his promises of revenge, he wasn't sure he could actually do it. If he had his bow, if he had a sword, he might feel a little better. As it was, he had neither.

_Maybe I won't have to do anything. Maybe the Wardens will come in the nick of time, like in all the old tales of heroes._

The banging sound of a door opening and closing startled Sammy from his thoughts.

"Watch out for the pit," somebody said. "Don't want our exalted prisoner to fall into it."

_Melisende?_ Sammy thought and hoped. Maybe he should try and shove the blanket off of his cage so that he could see. But he didn't want to anger his captors. For the moment, he should just listen to their conversation. They hadn't said anything in a while. Maybe this was important.

"Bring her here." It was Anto. Sammy heard the rattling of chains and a grunt of pain.

"What have I ever done to you?" her voice was raspy, like she was fighting off pain, but it was unmistakably Melisende.

"It was more Tristan Amell's doing, but since he is no longer here, you are the next best thing. You were after all right by his side." Anto again.

"I still don't understand…"

"You put Bhelen on the throne!" Anto barked. "He is destroying Orzammar. He lets the casteless – _the casteless_ – into the military and promises them rights, privileges. He lets foreigners – surfacers – into the city. And then they take away my business. Harrowmont never would have stood for these kinds of useless reforms. Harrowmont would have stayed true to tradition."

A moment of silence, the only sound Anto's angry echo, and then from Melisende: "And you? Who are you?"

"I am Dagmar." It was the woman's voice Sammy had heard earlier. "Before Bhelen, I was mistress to Renvil Harrowmont. I had the perfect life. More than a casteless could ask for. I was proud too, that none of my kind could ever rise so high as me. Except for that bitch Rica of course. When Bhelen took the throne, he killed every Harrowmont in Orzammar. Renvil was forced to flee – without me. Now I am nothing. Worse off than I was before."

"None of this is my fault…" Melisende said, her voice low and harsh.

"But it is. You should not have interfered in the Assembly." Dagmar replied sharply.

"It was necessary for the Blight…" Melisende said.

"Not necessary for _Bhelen_, a kin slayer, to take the throne." Dagmar hissed.

"It wasn't my choice. I don't understand what you want with me. Revenge?" Melisende again. _She sounds hopeless_, Sammy thought with concern.

"Revenge, yes." Anto's gruff voice this time.

"So have your way with me. Torture me, kill me, whatever… just let the boy go. He is innocent."

Anto's laugh drifted loudly into Sammy's cage. He wished he was a mage, so he could blow the dwarf into pieces and rescue Melisende. She shouldn't have told them to torture her, to kill her, for his sake.

"You missed the Provings, Lady Melisende. How about we have one right here? You – set the boy free, as the lady wishes."

Sammy tensed. Something in Anto's tone was deceitful and smug. He backed instinctively to the back of the cage as he heard heavy footsteps drawing nearer to him. Somebody slid the blanket off the cage and the brighter light seared his eyes for a second. The cage door opened and a dwarf reached in, grabbing him roughly by the arm, and pulled him out.

Sammy opened his eyes. He was in a pit. Finally, he could see what kind of creature had been caged next to him – it was a bronto. An angry, vicious looking bronto. Another dwarf stood on top of the bronto's cage, his hands on the top of the door, ready to pull it up, ready to let out the bronto.

"You can't do that!" he heard Melisende shout. He looked up to where she was. She was in shackles, a black eye decorating her face, and standing painfully. "Please, don't do this. He's just a boy!"

"Gag her!" Anto commanded. "We don't want her shouting advice to the boy, do we?"

_Advice? What for? _And then it dawned on Sammy. He was to have his own Proving – against the bronto. His heart beat faster suddenly and he clutched at the dwarf holding him, pleading with his eyes not to leave him, but the dwarf shoved him into the ground and crawled out of the pit. The creak of the bronto's cage scratched his ears.

"Anto!" the woman's sharp voice stopped the door from opening any further. "The Warden is right, he is just a child." Dagmar paused, and then a sly smile crept onto her face. "Give him a sword at least."

Anto tossed a sword into the pit, at the other end from where Sammy crouched in the dirt. "I hope you learned something from the Provings, boy."

The bronto's cage door was pulled up halfway when the creature grew impatient and charged through it, ripping it from its hinges with its horns. The dwarf on its cage was knocked backwards before he dragged himself quickly out of the pit.

Sammy forced himself to meet the bronto's eyes. He trembled as the bronto snorted, dug his front hooves into the ground and readied himself to charge. _You can do this_, Sammy repeated in his head. He glanced at the sword lying at the far end. _Get the sword_.

The bronto charged, his beastly head, two horns protruding up from its nose, lowered to butt Sammy from where he sat. He stood up and froze as the ground beneath rumbled with the heavy footsteps of the charging beast. The bronto came closer and closer, quicker than he thought possible. Soon, if Sammy didn't move, he'd be trampled. At the last moment, Sammy found his courage and threw himself out of the way of the rampaging bronto. He rolled to the side, standing up, his back against the pit's wall.

_Maybe I can climb out…_

He didn't have time to formulate a plan; the bronto turned around, roared, and charged in his direction again. Sammy took off running; the bronto rammed into the wall, causing the whole pit to vibrate. Sammy nearly fell. _It's like an earthquake_, he thought.

He looked for the sword Anto had tossed down. Spotting it, closer to him now, he ran for it, grabbing a hold of it before dodging the bronto again. With the sword in his hand, he wasn't afraid anymore, much to his surprise.

The bronto roared again, angry and impatient now. Sammy recoiled slightly at the sound, loud and grating to his ears. The bronto tossed his head left and right, dug his left hoof in the ground, kicked back, and then charged again for Sammy.

Sammy held his breath. _Maker help me in what I am about to do_. The bronto barreled toward him, his horns poised to pierce right through Sammy, his hooves kicking up dust behind him. Sammy gripped his sword tightly, crouched like a frog, and when the bronto was at double arm's length, Sammy pushed his legs up with all his strength – and he was suddenly in the air, flying for just a brief second. He twisted his body around and landed with a thud on the ground. He was behind the bronto now.

Sammy wasted no time in dashing onto the bronto's back, a balancing act he was surprised he was able to manage, until the bronto realized what he was up to and started bucking and thrashing about. Sammy's free hand reached for one of a series of smaller horns on the beast's back, holding on for dear life. The bronto continued in its efforts to throw him off. Sammy momentarily heard hoots from the dwarves above, but he resolved to ignore them. He needed to concentrate on staying atop the beast.

Sammy jabbed at the bronto's back with his sword. The beast's hide was too tough to pierce and Sammy was not strong enough to force it through with one hand. He let go of the horn to hold onto the sword with two hands, intending to stab the bronto with all of his strength, but it was too difficult to keep his balance and he was thrown off. He hit the ground with a hard thud. For a moment, the breath was sucked out of him and he heard the muffled scream of Melisende as the bronto turned in his direction.

As Sammy caught his breath, the bronto reared on its hind legs. Sammy glimpsed the soft underbelly of the creature.

_The underbelly_, he thought. _That is what I must aim for. That… or the throat._

Sammy lugged himself to a standing position. He found himself backing into the wall as the bronto fell back onto four legs, causing the ground to tremble underneath him yet again. Sammy waited, waited for the bronto to run at him again. He would not run from it this time.

His breath came hard, his heart hammered in his chest, and his left leg shook fiercely as his mind called for him to run away from the bronto charging toward him. Sammy raised his sword defiantly, and poised the blade toward the throat of the bronto.

_This is it…_

"Aaaaaaah!" Sammy roared a war cry as the bronto neared him. He closed his eyes for a second, expecting to be crushed to death. Instead, he heard the crunching sound of sword piercing hide and felt the splatter of warm blood onto his face.

Sammy opened his eyes to see the bronto's mouth opened wide inches from his own face. The bronto snorted. Sammy twisted the sword. The bronto groaned as its innards gurgled and squished at the action. The bronto emitted one last huff before falling silent.

Sammy slackened his grip on the sword hilt and slumped against the wall. The bronto's front horn rested only inches away from his face.

_I did it. I killed it_.

He held his hands up in disbelief. They were shaking horribly. He wiped the blood from his eyes and still his hands shook. His legs went out from under him and he sat against the wall. He couldn't hear clearly, the roar of the bronto still rang through his ears. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dwarf climbing down into the pit.

"The boy has proven himself useful," he heard Dagmar say from what sounded like a faraway place. "Lock him back up for now."

Sammy felt a hand grip his shoulder and pull him up and away from the bronto carcass. He looked up to see the dwarf that had climbed into the pit. The dwarf dragged him toward his old cage. Sammy glanced toward the sword stuck in the dead bronto's throat.

"No," he whispered.

"Come on," the dwarf pulled him hard toward the cage.

_I could have climbed out of the cage with the sword…_

The dwarf shoved him hard into the cage, shut the door with a heavy thud, and threw the blanket back over it, darkening his prison slightly. Sammy crawled to the back and threw himself onto the filthy straw. He felt like he could finally breathe. Sammy was almost glad to be back in his cage, though he regretted not climbing out of the pit with the sword and stabbing them all to death.

"I will kill you all!" he shouted. And they laughed.

_They won't laugh for long, I promise that much_.


	27. Chapter 27: NATHANIEL

XXVII. NATHANIEL

The bronto was docile, but even so, it was a fearsome creature. He'd hate to have one charging toward him. Nathaniel was glad for it, though, as the beast carried the ransom that would trick Anto into giving up Melisende and Sammy. At least he hoped that was what would happen.

Madoc led the beast of burden, his hands wrung tight around the leash. On the back of the bronto was the crate of Bhelen's gold – or whatever the wily king had put in there. Nathaniel marched by its side, a torch in hand. The tunnel they walked through was dark and rocky; sharp, pointy stalactites hung from the cavernous ceiling, threatening to fall onto their heads at any moment. _Threatened,_ Nathaniel thought, _they will not fall_. Melisende would be afraid, he knew, though she would try to hide it. _Melisende…_

On the other side of the beast walked Lina, the new recruit, the only recruit from Denerim. Nathaniel had briefly considered leaving her behind in Orzammar, but she had insisted on coming. The mage was already loyal to Melisende. Lina said she owed Melisende a great debt for taking a chance on her, an apostate. _I shouldn't be surprised_.

Velanna walked behind them all, her staff glowing with a blue light. Mixed with the glowing torchlight, it was an odd effect. Nathaniel felt fuzzy, like he was in a dream. _A nightmare more likely_. But he shook off his anxiety as much as he could. It wouldn't do to lose his calm.

Sigrun led them all, following the map the captors had provided, a torch in her hand guiding them forward. She stopped abruptly as they came to a fork in the tunnel. The bronto whined sullenly as they all came to a halt. Nathaniel made his way to Sigrun.

"Are you sure of the way?" he asked. She turned to him, coldly, and nodded. She was still angry with him, he knew. He should not have said that to her, should not have called her casteless, cowardly, vermin. "Sigrun, I am sorry, for what I said. I never meant it. I know this is no excuse, but I am worried."

Sigrun stared at him long and hard, so much so that Nathaniel grew uncomfortable under her gaze. He turned away, resuming his place beside the bronto. It was then that Sigrun left her spot in the lead to come closer to him.

"You don't have to tell us how worried you are, just looking at you we can tell." Sigrun said. Nathaniel caught Madoc's quick nod of agreement before the man bashfully pretended to not be paying any attention as he stared at the ground. Nathaniel frowned. _Am I really that obvious?_

"Besides," Sigrun continued, with a slight sigh. "I called you a noble know it all. I'm sorry for that."

"I deserved it." Nathaniel admitted.

Sigrun lifted her shoulder in a shrug, grinned once, and then returned to take the lead. She stared down the left tunnel and began walking down it. The bronto followed, after a few tugs from Madoc, and so did Lina and Nathaniel, until he noticed the blue glow had faded. He turned around to see Velanna still standing firmly at the fork. After a wary glance in his party's direction – they couldn't afford to get separated – he went to her.

"Velanna?" he wondered why she hovered there. She stared into the shadows of the opposite path. _Did she even hear me call to her?_

"I thought I saw…" she replied finally. But she still stared into the shadows. Nathaniel squinted in the direction of her gaze. He saw nothing but shadows. There was nothing, or nobody, there.

"Seranni is not there, Velanna." Nathaniel said, gently. "Let's go."

Velanna turned to him and inclined her head in agreement. "Today we will save Melisende and young Samuel. Another day, I will find Seranni."

Nathaniel was encouraged by her words. Spoken so plainly, so confidently, that he believed them. Today, they _would_ save Melisende and Sammy. Surprisingly, his heart sank as he realized that one day Velanna would find Seranni, meaning she would leave the Grey Wardens. _Hopefully not for good_.

…

The tunnel eventually opened up to a large cavern. In the middle of the cavern stood a high stone wall, running from one end to the other. And though the wall was crumbling slightly, it was still formidable. A heavy stone door in the middle of the wall was the only way in it seemed. A flash of torchlight flickered on the wall briefly as they entered the cavern.

"They know we're here." Sigrun warned.

"Is this some sort of old thaig?" Madoc asked.

"Possibly." Sigrun answered.

The stone door opened slowly. A handful of dwarves crossed the threshold to stand before them. Nathaniel glanced up on the wall – they were in shadows, but there were dwarves up there, armed with crossbows trained on the intruders – the Grey Wardens. A heavily armoured dwarf came forward.

"Sigrun?" he asked, surprised it seemed to find her there. "How did you know where to find me? You were supposed to be _dead_." The dwarf sent a questioning look to his cronies behind him. They only shrugged and did not answer him.

"The note, Anto." Sigrun replied. So this was Anto? Nathaniel narrowed his gaze on the man.

"What note?" Anto asked, oblivious to the murderous glint in Nathaniel's grey eyes.

"The ransom note you sent to Bhelen." Nathaniel said, his voice husky despite his attempts to stay calm.

"Ransom note? I would never do something stupid like send a ransom note to Bhelen." Anto laughed, nervously. "How am I supposed to return to Orzammar if I did such a thing?"

Nathaniel grew impatient. What kind of game was Anto playing? Had harm already been done to Mel and Sammy? Was this Anto's way of delaying that fact, to save his sorry self? Nathaniel clenched his fists, his frustration growing by the second.

A dwarven woman appeared from behind the stone door. She was dressed lavishly, her golden hair braided intricately and piled on top of her head. "You won't. We're going to the surface."

Anto flinched at the appearance of the woman. His face turned into a scowl. "Dagmar? You? You did this, woman? How stupid are you?"

"I have secured our future on the surface." Dagmar gestured toward the bronto. "Look at all the gold we'll get for the woman."

"Stupid nug-humping whore." Anto croaked. "I didn't capture the woman to ransom her. I captured her to kill her, in revenge. For your precious Renvil, for the ruin Bhelen has caused to House Bemot."

"Where is she?" Nathaniel demanded. She couldn't be dead already, could she? "Where is the boy?"

But nobody answered him. The dwarves seemed unconcerned about their visitors. They were only interested in each other for the moment.

"There is nothing left for us in Orzammar." Dagmar said.

"Yeah, because you sent a damn ransom note to _King Bhelen_!" Anto said loudly, clutching at his sword hilt.

"Oh, but it was in your name only. _I_ could return to Orzammar if I so wished. I am innocent of this whole venture. But I do not wish to return to that casteless loving cesspool of a city." Dagmar crossed her arms over her chest, staring coldly at Anto.

"You bitch!" Anto yelled. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Do this to you? I thought you'd be happy. We could have a new life on the surface. With all this gold, with the carta behind us, we could build our own empire on the surface."

Nathaniel had enough. "I hate to interrupt this lover's spat, but you're not going anywhere until Melisende and Sammy both are returned to us."

Again, they ignored him. Nathaniel slowly withdrew the bow from his back. _They won't ignore me much longer._ But Velanna stayed his hand, much to his chagrin.

"Where on the surface, idiot?" Anto snapped at Dagmar. "You think it'll be that easy? You're a fool!"

"Either way, I'm going to the surface, with or _without you_." Dagmar's gaze met Nathaniel's at that moment. She snapped her fingers as a smug smile crept over her face. "There will be no prisoner exchange today. I'm taking the gold, I'm taking the boy, and the woman will shortly be dead. As will you all. Kill them all! Including Anto!"

"Why you nug-humping bitch, you won't get away with this!" Anto unsheathed his sword and braced himself as his cronies turned on him, their weapons poised to strike.

Nathaniel nocked an arrow to his bow. This was not going smoothly at all. At least Dagmar had let out that Melisende was still alive, for now. There was no more time to waste. They had to find them. "Wardens," he called out. "Defend yourselves. Make sure this one," Nathaniel gestured toward Anto, "stays alive. He knows where Mel and Sammy are."

"And make sure they don't get the gold or Bhelen will have a hissy fit." Sigrun added.

Velanna snorted. "It's probably not even real gold."

"Even if it's fake, he said he wanted it back." Sigrun said as the ex-carta cronies surrounded them. "And I am not about to get on his bad side."

A carta member lashed out at Anto. Anto blocked the man's swings and stuck his sword through the man's guts. "Dagmar!" he yelled furiously as he tried to cut a path through to the dwarven woman, who stood by the stone door, laughing.

Sigrun and Madoc engaged in battle at the front lines, while Velanna, Lina, and Nathaniel hung back. Nathaniel fired arrows into the crowd. In the back of his mind, he knew the crossbows on the top of the wall would fire soon enough, if he didn't do anything about it. He aimed for the wall, taking out one dwarf, who fell to the ground with a thud.

"Bowmen!" Dagmar screamed.

Nathaniel braced himself as bolts were released in a hail of fury, hissing as they shred through the air. He felt the stinging bite of a bolt as it entered the flesh on his thigh. He held back a yelp of pain and instead concentrated on evading the rest of the bolts that dug into the ground. The bronto roared in pain as a bolt hit it and he reared up, then down, and barreled through to the wall, tossing carta out of its way as if they were nothing but rag dolls. The wall shook as the creature slammed into it. Velanna was right, there was no gold in the crate, just a large amount of pieces of scrap metal that went flying into the air as the crate broke in the impact. At least the scrap metal played to their advantage – knocking several dwarves off their feet.

Nathaniel regained his balance, after the bronto's run had shook the ground beneath them, gritting his teeth through the pain of the bolt stuck into his thigh and methodically picked off the crossbowmen he could see on top of the wall.

A burst of fire exploded on top of the wall – Velanna or Lina had cast a spell to finish off the remaining crossbowmen. Nathaniel sucked in a breath of relief. He hated to be on the receiving end of deadly projectiles. He'd rather be the one raining down hell onto his enemies. He continued to do that, straining his arm muscles, feeling the blood run through his veins, coming alive as he always did as the battle went on.

He saw that Anto was surrounded by the carta. He hated to admit it, but the bastard was a good fighter, a berserker hacking at the limbs around him. Sigrun darted to and fro through the crowd, cutting down anybody who got into her way. Madoc fought almost artistically with his daggers – stabbing those who got in his way with deadly efficiency.

A dwarf came running for Nathaniel. He'd just released an arrow and so he grabbed another from his quiver, hoping he could nock it in time to stop the raving dwarf coming at him with axe raised high. Nathaniel didn't have to worry – the dwarf went flying through the air as a stone fist came up from the ground. Nathaniel scanned the area to see Velanna smiling at him satisfyingly as she cast spells elsewhere. He couldn't help but smile back.

The battle went on for a little while longer. At one point, it seemed like the Wardens would be overrun by the carta – _how many were there?_ – but each time they fought back. Sigrun with her longsword, Madoc with his daggers, Lina used her staff as a weapon several times, swinging it around, slashing the dwarves who dared come near her – _she'll make a good Warden, if she survives the Joining_ – and Velanna ran around casting spells.

Soon enough, all that remained of the remnants of Jarvia's carta were two quick-footed men, guarding Dagmar. Anto engaged them both in battle. Nathaniel caught his breath and watched as blood from his wound warmed his thigh. If it looked like Anto was about to die, he'd go in there and stop the fight. But then again, Dagmar likely knew where Mel and Sammy were, too, so it didn't really matter if Anto were killed. They only needed one or the other. He halted the other Wardens from doing anything further.

"Anto, my dear," Dagmar begged now, her face full of panic as Anto cut down one of her bodyguards, "you must stop this madness."

Anto laughed, his face running with blood as he raised his sword for one last swing against the final bodyguard. The bodyguard reached out with his sword, but Anto brought his down, knocking it away. Nathaniel looked away briefly as Anto killed the man.

When next he looked, Anto was moving onto Dagmar, making a show of wiping his sword of the filth with a cloth he pulled out of nowhere Nathaniel could see. Nathaniel saw the fear in the woman's eyes – and he couldn't let this go on.

"Enough!" Nathaniel bellowed. He aimed his bow at Anto's sword arm and released. The arrow buzzed through the air, landing in Anto's arm. Anto dropped his sword in pain. "Tie them both up." Nathaniel commanded. Sigrun and Madoc did as he said. Nathaniel walked over to his prisoners.

"Thank you my lord!" Dagmar said as Sigrun wrenched her arms in the back, tying her up tightly.

"Shut up." Nathaniel said. The excitement of the battle left him, and now all he could think of was Sammy and Melisende. "Where are they?"

Dagmar played dumb, her eyes shifting back and forth between Anto and Nathaniel.

"I suppose it is too much to ask for my freedom in exchange for their whereabouts?" Dagmar asked.

Nathaniel crouched down and closed the distance between himself and Dagmar. He leaned in closely, his voice low and menacing. "Do you think I am stupid? You will tell me where they are, or I will kill you."

Dagmar gulped back a sob. "Please, my lord… it was all Anto's doing…" she could barely look Nathaniel in the eye as she begged. Nathaniel stood back, disgusted with the woman he had pitied just moments ago. _She is not a lady; she is scum_.

"The boy is in the pit." Anto said. "The woman is in a cell. I can show you the way."

Dagmar shot a look at Anto. "You idiot!"

"Shut up!" Nathaniel said. He turned to Anto. "Then show us the way."

Madoc hauled Anto up into a standing position and shoved him forward. Nathaniel turned back to Velanna and Lina.

"Watch this woman," he said. "If she so much as moves a finger – well, you're creative, turn her to stone, burn her, do whatever you like."

Dagmar looked horrified as she focused on the two mages standing before her. Magic was not as potent against dwarves as other races, but even so, two mages were a fearsome sight. Nathaniel wanted the woman to squirm, to make her feel as he had when she refused to answer his inquiries about the whereabouts of Sammy and Melisende.

A flicker of disgust ran through his mind. Disgust for himself. _Father's cruel streak has taken hold of me again…_ He shook the feeling away. Dagmar would come to no harm, not by his hands anyway, nor by his Wardens, no matter what he had told them to do. What Bhelen did to her, however, would be another story.

…

Anto limped into the darkness and clutched at his wounded arm. He stopped abruptly and turned around to face Nathaniel. "The pit," he said, while pointing to a large circular hole in the cavern beyond the wall. The cavern was lit with a few torches hanging from the stone walls, but the pit had no such amenities. Nathaniel squinted down into the relative darkness.

"You left the boy, down there?" Nathaniel asked incredulously. His stomach rose slightly at the stench emanating from the pit. There was something dead down there. Nathaniel handed his torch to Madoc and then climbed down into the hole.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Then he saw the culprit, a dead bronto. Sigrun's feet hit the ground behind him.

"Anto says Sammy is in one of the cages," she said, pointing to two cages at the other end. One was covered and the other was empty.

"Then we must not waste any time." Nathaniel said, stalking over to the cage. He tore the ratty blanket off of it in his anger. He saw the boy huddled in the back, his eyes closed. Sigrun climbed onto the cage and pulled the door up. The screeching of the door as it was raised woke the boy.

"Sammy." Nathaniel called out. Sammy stared back at him, dumbfounded. _He looks as if he is dreaming_. "Sammy, you can come out."

"Nathaniel?" the boy asked, his voice hoarse from lack of water.

Nathaniel nodded and held his hand out. Sammy stood up and slowly shuffled towards Nathaniel. When the boy had taken his hand, Nathaniel pulled him out. To his surprise, Sammy threw his arms around his neck, clutching him in an embrace.

"Are you hurt?" Nathaniel asked, noticing the blood on the boy's face.

Sammy broke free and shook his head. "I'm just hungry, and thirsty. But Mel… she looked really bad when I saw her…"

Sigrun jumped down from the cage and Sammy ran to embrace her, much to her surprise as well.

Nathaniel tried to rein in his anger. How could somebody treat somebody thus? Where did the blood come from, if Sammy was not hurt? And how badly hurt was Melisende? His heart skipped at the thought of her being hurt.

"Can we get out of here?" Sammy asked, eyeing the dead bronto. Nathaniel sent him a questioning look, but the boy said nothing. Nathaniel nodded and then led them out of the pit, back to Anto, guarded closely by Madoc. Nathaniel noticed Sammy's gaze narrow onto the dwarf. Anto stared back at the boy defiantly.

"What? You want a piece of me now?" Anto goaded.

Before Nathaniel could do anything, Sammy went over to the dwarf and punched him once in the face. Anto spat a tooth onto the ground, much to Nathaniel's surprise. Nathaniel glanced at Sammy who rubbed his knuckles. _Must have been one hard thump_.

"Sigrun, bring Sammy to Velanna and Lina." Nathaniel said. He didn't want the boy to see Melisende – if she was really hurt. Sammy looked about to protest but let himself be lead away by Sigrun. "Now, Madoc, pull this slime ball up so we can find Melisende."

"My pleasure." Madoc said as he pulled Anto up roughly and shoved him forward. Anto grunted but led them through his lair to yet another dark tunnel. He stopped and pointed.

"She's in the end," he said.

The tunnel was pitch black with no light at all. Nathaniel shuddered at the cruelty of it. Melisende did not like the underground. To force her to sit in it in complete darkness was utterly despicable. He felt like crushing Anto into the ground.

"I know I can't expect mercy from you…" Anto began to say.

"No, you cannot, but Bhelen will deal with you. It's not the Wardens' place to pass judgment on you." Nathaniel interrupted.

"Then I'm as good as dead."

"You brought it on yourself." Nathaniel said. "You should be thanking your lucky stars that we are handing you over to Bhelen. For what you have done – I could do a lot worse than Bhelen could ever dream of doing."

"If Bhelen lets me live… you will regret not taking things into your own hands." Anto threatened.

"Madoc, take him away before I do something we will all regret." Nathaniel said, turning his back on the dwarf.

"Yes, sir." Madoc replied.

When their footsteps were nothing but faint whispers, Nathaniel took a deep breath. With torch in hand, he began the long walk through the tunnel, to the end, where the cell was. Where Melisende was waiting.


	28. Chapter 28: MELISENDE

XXVIII. MELISENDE

A tiny flicker of light glowed far away in the distance.

_Am I finally going mad?_

She blinked a couple of times, thinking it was her mind, or perhaps her eyes tricking her. But each time she opened her eyes, it was still there, coming closer, growing larger. As the light did so, she heard the faint sound of footsteps.

_One person? Or more?_

She wondered if they were coming back for her. If Anto was finally going to come and finish her off. She almost hoped it were so, if it weren't for Sammy. She had that same feeling of being trapped, like a doe, over and over again. She was in so much pain, halfway dead already most likely, that death would be a mercy. But she couldn't let Sammy down. She had to get him out of there. They already forced him to fight a bronto, what would they do next?

The light grew larger, the footsteps louder. So used to darkness her eyes had become, that her other senses had become heightened, which wasn't at all a good thing, seeing as her pain felt worse than ever. But she could hear clearly. The sound of a man taking breath after breath as he walked down the corridor of darkness to her cell.

_It is only one man coming to get me_.

The light was so close now, so blinding, that she had to look away. She heard her cell door creak open. _It never was locked, was it? But I was always in shackles and too weak to get away…_

She heard the footsteps of a man entering her cell. She felt the heat of the torch on her face as he crouched down in front of her. She didn't know how she knew it was a man, perhaps it was the heaviness of the steps, a little more so than a dwarf, a little longer of a stride than a dwarf. Goose bumps ran down her neck, onto her arms as she felt a hand grasp the side of her face, tilting it back toward the light. A familiar sigh reached her ears, caressed her face.

"Melisende," he said gently. She opened her eyes slowly, wincing as the light sent a new pain to her head. Nathaniel was there.

"Put your arms around my neck," he commanded her. She lifted her arms, heavy with their shackles. Nathaniel had to help her with his free arm. She cried out in pain as her old shoulder wound sent a jolt of pain throughout her whole body. He placed the torch to the side momentarily as he slid that arm under her knees. Then he stood up, lifting her off the ground.

The tears burst through as she felt the beating of his heart and realized that this was not a dream.

…

The wind was a welcome feeling as it brushed through her hair. Melisende sat alone for the moment, amongst a grove of evergreens in the cool air of the Frostback Mountains. It was the first time in a fortnight that she could think clearly. Velanna had forced some vile drink down her mouth each day, causing her to lose awareness. They'd stayed a while in Orzammar until she healed enough to make the journey back to the Keep. The Wardens had also wanted to make sure that Anto and Dagmar received their just punishment. Sure enough, after Bhelen questioned them, they met their ends.

Melisende was glad to be returning to Vigil's Keep, to be out of the underground. And Sammy seemed to be doing fine. His resilience was admirable after all he'd been through. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two from him. He got the taste of adventure he'd always wanted. Now, she supposed it was time he grew up properly – as a squire. She felt empty at the thought of losing him, but at least he would be safe.

Most of all, Melisende was anxious to put _everything _behind her.

Nathaniel appeared before her suddenly, like he always seemed to do. He leaned against the trunk of a dead pine. His grey eyes lingered on her. She shivered in the wind, unable to find the words to say to him. He saved her, despite her betrayal. She wasn't really surprised, he had a noble heart. She struggled on whether or not to tell him about her miscarriage. She felt the pain of that loss cut through her soul and she shivered even more.

He was beside her now, removing his cloak and wrapping it around her.

"You didn't have to do that," she said. She felt the warmth of his arm long after it had left her.

"You are cold. I am not," he replied.

Because she did not know what to say, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I think we should squire out Sammy. I never want him to suffer again for something he did not do. My brother Fergus would take him, I'm sure. Or even Alistair."

Nathaniel had his bow out in front of him. He ran his hand down the string, testing it for weakness. Melisende had to look away, for the movement reminded her of the way he used to run his fingers down her body.

"I think so too." Nathaniel finally answered.

They sat in silence, the only sound was the wind rushing through the trees. Would it always be like this? Would she always feel the pain she had caused him tear at her heart? Would she always feel the shame of her miscarriage? Would she always feel like it had only been what she had deserved? She briefly considered confessing to him, but then thought it no use. It would only hurt him more. It would only cause her own pain to grow larger. There were some things that were worth keeping secret, at least until the pain, the shame faded away.

"What is to become of us?" she asked, cutting through the silence. She hadn't meant to ask that, but it was on her mind constantly. She lived in the shadow of ghosts for too long now. She needed to find peace, with Nathaniel and Ronan both, to put the past where it belonged – in the past. Nathaniel was at arm's reach. Ronan, she didn't know where he was nor if she would ever see him again. She could at least, for now, make peace with Nathaniel.

Nathaniel placed his bow to the side and rubbed his thigh wound in a thoughtful gesture. "It still pains me to look at you at times. You hurt me, more than I'd like to admit. But, I don't think I can live without you, however crazy that is."

"I don't think it's crazy at all. Surprising, maybe, but not crazy. For what it's worth, I am sorry, again." Melisende said. She was touched at his words, at his admission. She was the cause of his pain and that hurt her. "I never meant to hurt you."

"We can never be what we once were," he said. "But we can be friends… in time."

It was more than she expected. It was more than she deserved. "Friends, in time… I'd like that."

There was something she must do if that were to be the case – if they were to become friends. Nathaniel could not stumble onto the truth, not until she was ready. If she ever was. She couldn't take that chance. She was confident Sigrun, Lina, and Sammy would say nothing of what had transpired in Denerim. There was someone else, however, that might.

_Dire bunny… I must destroy you_.


	29. A Final Entry

A Final Entry

_Dire bunny,_

_Here begins my final entry._

_So much has happened since I left Vigil's Keep. I almost don't know what to write. I don't even know where to begin. If I am honest with myself, my hand shakes at the thought of it all and I am not even sure I can write it all down. One thing I do know is that this will be my final entry. You have been a balm to me before, my sword of truthiness, but now, I have no further reason to keep you. In fact, you are dangerous to keep in my possession, for you hold so many of my secrets. _

_I guess there is no better place to begin than with the easiest – Sammy. He followed me away from the Keep, seeking the adventure he craved for so long. Well, he got it and a lot more than he bargained for. It seems that his archery training with Nathaniel was well worth it. With his borrowed bow he turned a hopeless situation into a salvageable mess. Sammy saved me. Never was I so proud of the boy, though I tried to be stern about it all. _

_Then, I cringe thinking about what those dwarves put him through. He did not deserve that. Again, the boy surprised me. I was glad to see his sword lessons had been taken seriously. Sammy proved himself, against a bronto! I can breathe easier now knowing that Sammy is capable of taking care of himself. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to him._

_Now, I think it best to send him away to be squired. He has proven himself. And though it will be hard to lose him, for the boy brings much needed joy to my life, at least I will know he is safe. I don't want him near me, where it seems everyone who has a problem with the Grey Wardens seeks their vengeance. _

_Tristan's secret is out, at least to Sigrun and Sammy. And I am quite sure that Alistair knows, too. I think that I can accept what Tristan has done. He never wanted to be a hero, was always unsure of being a Grey Warden. It is his choice, and after a lot of thought, I can live with it after all. _

_I met with Alistair. Truthfully, I am a little worried about him. He does not seem like himself. Perhaps it was only his grief for Tristan. I reassured him as much as I dared. It was good to talk with him, to be held by him. He will always have a special place in my heart. _

_Now, for the hardest part of all my time away._

_I am bruised, I am broken in a few places, but the most pain of all comes from the empty spot in my womb. My bruises will fade soon, my broken ribs will knit back together in time, but that empty feeling will never go away. My hopes, my visions of a child of my own, they all dissolved before my eyes. I can't even bear to write about it. I will never speak of it again. It was just not meant to be._

_There is no use troubling Nathaniel with this. We have agreed to be friends, in time. I guess that is fine with me. He will remain in my life, at the very least. It is only what I deserve; actually it is more than what I deserve for what I did to him. I am grateful for that small mercy._

_As for Ronan, if I ever see him again, there is no use in troubling him either. It would accomplish nothing to tell him of what happened. I have hurt him enough already with my stupid words from my stupid mouth. I wish only to forget it all._

_Sigrun and Lina will hopefully keep quiet about this. If I am not mistaken, I have made friends of them. That is an unexpected, but pleasant outcome of the time away from Vigil's Keep. Perhaps it is the only good to come out of it all._

_For so long I have lived in the shadow of ghosts, allowing the past to haunt me. I dwelled on events, on things I could not change. Conjectures filled up my mind. What if this, what if that. No more, dire bunny. History cannot be re-written. The future is yet to be determined. All that is left is for the present to be accepted. From this day forward, I accept things as they are. You are no longer needed and will be destroyed in the days to come._

_Goodbye dire bunny._


End file.
